


My Heart Is A Compass

by Memoryboard



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Escorts, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Bartender Katsuki Yuuri, Blow Jobs, Chris is skating king, Escort Service, Escort Viktor Nikiforov, Falling In Love, M/M, Miscommunication, Porn with Feelings, Secrets, Switching, This thing is bound to have smut duh, Younger characters, Yuuri is still in college
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-02-07 04:25:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 74,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12833253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Memoryboard/pseuds/Memoryboard
Summary: “People in these events normally don’t talk to the bartender,” Yuuri shrugged, polishing a glass with a white cloth.Viktor smiled. “And bartenders in these events aren’t normally as pretty as you.”-[Alternatively: Viktor is an escort who’s developed a routine throughout the years. It has brought him to where he was, kept his private life private, and allowed him to build a loyal clientele.When he met Yuuri, however, things had to change.]





	1. Break The Routine

**Thirteen Years Ago**

“ _Yuuri-kun_ , would you come here and help me with the towels?”

Yuuri rushed down the stairs and immediately found his _okaa-san_ hunched over a stack of laundry. The room smelled of lavender soap and clean sheets.

His family owned an _onsen_ , one of the many across Hasetsu, a staple establishment in a town where most tourists came to relax. There was the ocean, of course, but nothing caught a foreigner’s eye like a classic Japanese hot spring resort.

“Why are you humming your happy song, _okaa-san_?” Yuuri asked, waddling his way into the laundry room and plopping right next to the mountain of white sheets.

“We’re almost at half capacity!” his _okaa-san_ grinned. Although it didn’t really mean much to Yuuri at the time.

Yuuri reached for a tangled mess of towels and began to fold them one by one. He’s so used to doing it at this point that his hands were as quick with them as his _okaa-san_. Mari’s even better with them, but she won’t be home until later than day.

“I’ll bring these to the changing rooms,” Hiroko said, separating half of the stack from the rest. She took a few towels and handed them to Yuuri. “And oh, would you please take these to the front desk? Do remind your father we have reservations at four.”

His family lived adjacent to the establishment, practically attached to it, which wasn’t an odd thing at all. Most family businesses in Kyushu did the same, because itsaved rent and allowed owners to have easier access at all times.

Yuuri had gotten used to helping his mother and father when they asked him to—and at ten years old, he was now relegated to delivering food to the guests on the weekends.

“ _Ohayo_ , _Yuuri-kun_ ,” his father greeted, sitting by the reception area near the entrance.

Yuuri handed him the stack of towels, which Toshiya received and carefully loaded into little baskets.

“ _Okaa-san_ said there’s a reservation at four.”

Again, those things didn’t mean anything to Yuuri, but apparently, to Toshiya it did.

“Oh, that’s right,” he said, thumbing through the record books and writing down a couple of things. “Did _Riko-san_ leave this morning?”

“I think so?” Yuuri said. “I mean, you did tell her to be careful on her way to Kyoto.”

“Good,” Toshiya said. “I’ll go clean up the room and replace the sheets. You know what do if a customer comes in, don’t you? Log them in and show them to the changing area?”

“Yes.”

“Alright,” Toshiya smiled. “I’ll be back.”

Yuuri didn’t like going out much, so it wasn’t really a big deal for him to be asked to help out when he can. Come to think of it, he actually preferred staying in to help. The only time he’d ever want to come out was when his friend Yuuko begged him to skate with her at a family-owned rink nearby.

The day passed on as it normally would, a lot of hauling things from one place to another and a lot of folding towels and helping in the kitchen. Yuuko was doing something else that day, so he busied himself with some homework after lunch and played video games when he got a little bored.

At four o’clock, his mother came knocking on his door.

“ _Yuuri-kun_ , would you please come down here? We need some help in the dining hall.” she called out from outside.

“Be right there.”

He paused his game and saved it, and set his Gameboy down on the table. Once he was out the door, his _okaa-san_ was already gone, so he went down the steps and poked his head into the kitchen.

“Something you need me to help you with?”

Mari was already drying dishes by the counter, freshly showered, probably just home from her weekend dance lessons. Yuuri asked if he could come with her once, but never really managed to for some reason. Maybe he’ll ask her again soon.

“Oh, Yuuri!” his _okaa-san_ appeared from the staff door, and handed him a tray filled with food. “Deliver these to our guests, will you?”

“Which ones?”

“The pretty family with a young son,” his mother said. “You won’t miss them.”

Yuuri blinked and found that to be a little strange, but he took the tray anyway. He could just go back and ask more questions if he still didn’t know where he should be delivering all the food he’s been asked to serve.

So he walked into the next room.

He was planning on staying out there and walk back into the kitchen again when a table of foreign people caught his eye. They were a family of three, with a son...and his _okaa-san_ was right when she told him they were a pretty family. Quite literally.

The woman, who must have been the mother, was young and slim, her hair the colour of beautiful light ash. The man sitting across her had golden hair and pale skin, his face beautiful and chiseled.

Next to him was his son, who looked just like him, if not for the fact that he was much too young to have pronounced jaws and cheekbones like his father. The boy had his mother’s hair, both the colour and length of it.

There were other people in the room, but Yuuri knew for certain that it’s where he’s supposed to deliver the food to, so he sighed and went straight to their table.

“ _Konnichiwa_ ,” he said, bowing in front of them shyly, and began to arrange the food on their table.

The woman spoke delightedly in some language Yuuri didn’t understand, but she sounded pleased. Her husband seemed to have joined the conversation at one point, so Yuuri continued on setting the food on the table for them.

“Do you speak English?”

Yuuri had to blink and look at the boy in front of him, who was oddly too close, his blue eyes curious.

And to answer the question; yes, he could.

In fact, Yuuri knew a lot of English—school did a lot for him, sure, but video games were certainly the most help he’s had. Whenever there was something his _okaa-san_ didn’t understand, she would ask Yuuri. It was a convenient skill to have when you’re running a business frequented by foreign tourists.

But instead, for some unknown reason, he ended up saying, “Not much.”

The older boy’s eyes lit up instantly.

“Oh! That’s alright!” he had a faint accent, it curled and twisted around the vowels—but it wasn’t at all unpleasant, so to say. “Look, _mama_. Isn’t he just adorable?”

The woman spoken to smiled across the table and looked at Yuuri, her blue eyes kind. “Hello. Does your family own the _onsen_?”

“Ah,” Yuuri held up the metal tray in front of him like a shield, feeling a bit exposed. He was overwhelmed by the attention, something he wasn’t really used to. “Yes. I mean, yes. My family does.”

“And does you mother do all the cooking?”

Yuuri nodded.

“Well, do tell her the food looks marvellous!” the woman said. “And perhaps you and Vitya here can be friends, _da_?”

Vitya, the young boy, smiled brightly. He had the most wonderful smile. It held no worries or secrets, no judgement or fear. Yuuri thought he might genuinely want to become friends with him, if given the time.

“Call me Viktor!” he said.

And with a smile, Yuuri replied, “Yuuri. Katsuki Yuuri.”

-

**Present**

Anatoly Petrishchev was born in Russia but raised in Michigan by American relatives. He moved out of his aunt’s when he was eighteen, found himself a nice apartment in Detroit, and chose work over university. Anatoly also liked Chardonnay, frequent trips to California, cookies and cream, white chocolate bars, and dream catchers.

All of that was bullshit, because of course.

Viktor stepped out into the cold night and slipped inside the Uber car with a sigh.

He stared out the windows with pathetic melancholy, correcting his inner monologue earlier—because no, it wasn’t nighttime anymore, it was nearly five in the morning and close to dawn.

For times like these, Viktor’s work just ended, and he was about to sleep when everyone else was about to rise and make their morning coffee. Not that it bothered him.

Years into the job and you were sure to get used to the ins and outs of it. He’s learned to manoeuvre his professional life out of his personal one, creating a whole new persona to go with it.

“We’re here,” the driver said.

Viktor looked up at the price and handed over a few bills. The tip was an overkill, and the driver pointed this out, but Viktor shook his head and smiled. “It’s okay,” he said. “You drove me home thrice tonight, Frank. Thank you.”

“Do you need me to drive you somewhere tomorrow?”

Viktor thought about it for a second before he replied, “Maybe Thursday? I’ll call you?”

“Yeah. If I’m a bit away from your pick-up point, ask Lyndon instead. You know he doesn’t accept bookings too far out.” He waved the excess tip in front of Viktor. “You sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

Frank hesitantly tucked the bills away. “Be careful, kid.”

“I always am.”

And Viktor _was_ careful. He prided himself in his ability to be discrete; although that was more for himself than his clients in general, which were a happy mix of lawyers, family men, police officers, single mothers, and just about anyone with a lot to lose if ever found out canoodling with a prostitute.

He watched as the Frank pulled away, car turning toward another street, before Viktor pulled his coat tight and walked a few blocks down. As he arrived at his building, he quickly ducked into the elevator and punched the buttons to his floor, desperate for a bath and some sleep.

Considering how tired he was, maybe he’d fall asleep in the bathtub. It’s happened before.

Viktor had a nice place, far better than most. It was made to be a modern bachelor pad, the kind you’re supposed to show off whenever you brought someone home for a night, but Viktor couldn’t afford to be that _careless_. No, one wrong move and someone might recognise him from somewhere, might put two and two together, and might leak information about where he lived.

But then, he found himself staring at the wonderful windows that ran from the celling to the floor, the automated white blinds, and the squeaky clean industrial interior—and thought, maybe it wasn’t so bad.

He was getting more sex than he needed anyway, so why was he even lamenting about one-night-stands?

“Dream on,” he said to no one in particular.

Turning toward the bedroom, he began to shed his clothes. They were slightly crumpled, sweaty, and smelled of alcohol and someone else. He hurriedly shoved those in a hamper, separate from the one where he put his normal clothes in, and went to run the bath. As he waited for the tub to fill with water, he picked up his phone and sent Chris a text. It didn’t say much, just a short ‘ _I’m home_ ’ to let his best friend know he hadn’t been murdered by one of his clients’ angry spouses.

He brushed his teeth and rubbed the makeup off his face, mused about getting a dog then realised it would be cruel to any dog—the usual things. Whoever said escorts didn’t have a steady routine were clearly mistaken.

After his bath, Viktor slept for most of the morning and rose at ten. He made some coffee, ate breakfast, and watched the news. He'd spend most of his mornings lying on the couch, sometimes read a book when he's feeling a little bored, but mostly just a whole lot of nothing. It was a bland way to live, that was true, but one hardly complained about it when they’re sitting on genuine suede.

A knock on his door momentarily distracted him from the news, but he shrugged it off when he saw the date and time on his phone. There would be no deliveries that day, he hasn’t ordered anything from nearby restaurants, and he’s paid his rent two weeks ago. He already knew who it was, so he stayed put, sipping at his coffee as he waited for the person to come inside.

Chris appeared in his living room not long after. He looked to be energetic, probably just fresh out of his morning run. Unlike Viktor, Christophe Giacometti was far more productive during the day. “Thought you’d be awake."

“I thought I’d wake up at two,” Viktor shifted a little in his seat. He’s always made sure to lube up whenever he was working, but some clients do like it...hard; and whatever the client wanted, as long as they weren’t rude, he’d give it to them. He wasn't too wary about those things, not anymore; and it's all thanks to the fact that Viktor's grown used to them. “Don’t you have practice or something?”

“Rest day,” Chris sat on the other end of the couch, stretching his long legs while he was at it. He might as well move in, if not for the fact that he had more than enough money to get an apartment of his own, and _cheri, the lack of colour in this apartment is going to drive me mad_. “Ew, what are you eating?”

“Cereal.”

“I could have gotten you bagels,” Chris said. " _You_ could have gotten bagels. There's a bakery three blocks down."

“Don’t mind me,” Viktor waved him off. “I don’t have outcalls today, so...”

Viktor usually didn’t mind if he suddenly slipped and revealed something about work to Chris, but they never really spoke about it in detail. Dropping terms like ‘incall’ and ‘outcall’ or ‘queues’ and ‘bookings’ don’t really surprise Chris at this point. Whether or not Chris preferred they didn’t talk about it, was still an on-going mystery.

“Don’t you have anything in your fridge, Viktor?” Chris went to stand and raid the kitchen, and returned with a Diet Coke. “You have a full fridge.”

“I know.”

“And you’re not even eating something nice.”

“I don’t feel like it,” Viktor said, still sipping at his coffee. Then, he looked at Chris again, eyes on the can of soda in his hand. “I thought you weren’t allowed to drink that?”

“I told you,” Chris said. “Rest day.”

“I’m not sure that’s how a diet plan works.”

“Blow me.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Viktor’s lips. “Careful, Giacometti.”

Chris grimaced. “Blek,” he shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re probably very, very good in bed. But that mental image was just really weird.”

“Funny, I thought you'd be the one to suggest something like that.”

They sat in Viktor's living room, paying less and less attention to the morning news, listening to the sounds of traffic from outside. While nothing's changed in the last seven years of Viktor's life, Chris' has turned into a cesspool of sport and media and controversy. Chris loved the public attention as much as Viktor hated it, but despite those differences, they still found amusing ways to bond by pointing out the crazy speculations the tabloids have been saying about Chris.

When they started going on about how they never got to the point of experimenting with each other, Chris had only one thing to say: “I know, but I’ve also known you for so long and all I could think about is you wearing that weird Avril Lavigne skirt and fishnet ensemble once-upon-a-time.”

Oh god.

Viktor snatched one of the throw pillows closest to him and chucked it at Chris. “I didn’t go out looking like that! We were ten, played dress up, and you put on a shitty wig.”

“But you still wore it.”

“On a dare!”

"Your gay awakening," Chris hummed. “Now it’s a part of you forever.”

“That was _one_ time.”

“And that one time will forever be my fondest memory of you,” Chris said. “Congratulations.”

Viktor rolled his eyes and picked up his cup of coffee again. “You hate me.”

“No, _mon cheri_ , I love you,” he said. “But my memories of you are just _really_ weird. Do you remember that rainy day we threw mud at each other without realising it was cow shit?”

-

Anatoly was a spoiled man. Used to the easy life at this point, he’s experienced luxury more than a normal person could. There was something about stepping into Anatoly’s shoes that brought out a different experience, a thrill, a mask that allowed Viktor to do and say what he wanted without thinking about it. A mask can be redone, changed again and again until he was satisfied, and he’d believe it for hours and hours depending on the price.

“Do you like the view?”

Viktor looked over Paul’s shoulder, and saw large windows that boasted the Detroit skyline. Most of the lights were on; and from a distance, the lit apartment windows looked like steady Christmas lights, breathing life into the city as it wound down to rest. It was beautiful, but Viktor let his gaze fleet back to the man in front of him, pulling his lips into a playful smirk.

The Detroit skyline, no matter how beautiful, was none of his concern at the moment.

“I’m looking at it right now,” Viktor said, shrugging off his black coat.

“Oh?” Paul stepped closer, hand coming up to his tie to tug at it. His suit was Tom Ford, bespoke, and tailored to perfection. It didn’t matter though, as the suit jacket was forgotten on the floor within the next few seconds. “You think the view’s to your tastes tonight?”

Among his clients, Viktor liked him the most.

“In fact,” Viktor closed the space between them then, hands starting to unbutton Paul’s brand-name shirt. “I think he’d look even better without his clothes on.”

Paul snorted. “You flatter me, Anatoly.”

“You know I don’t normally do rush bookings on a weekday,” Viktor said, his fingers not touching Paul’s skin, teasing. He was careful not to do it too fast or too slow, not too enthusiastic or too restrained. “I think I’m beginning to spoil you too much.”

“But we’re alone today, so just think about that.”

Viktor hummed, still in his suit, reaching for the other’s waistband. Paul must have noticed how much clothes Viktor was still wearing, so he dove right in to rid of them, but Viktor put a firm hand on his chest. He seemed disappointed for a moment, but still pleased.

“Don’t get too excited,” Viktor smirked.

Paul liked it when he was being teased, liked to take charge when it was time to fuck, and loved pulling at Viktor’s hair at the height of it.

Like most clients, he had his own patterns, a step-by-step manual from point A to point B. He wasn’t too adventurous when it came to sex; preferred a blowjob before doing anything else, didn’t like it when Viktor used too much teeth, and loved doing the prep work.

He also didn’t like condoms, but it was already something Viktor emphasised as non-negotiable. Not even for a hefty tip.

Viktor would moan, sometimes because it was good, sometimes because it made Paul feel good about himself. He would have Viktor almost the same way every time—on his hands and knees, pulling at his light hair, and ramming into him in slow, fluid strokes—Viktor knew which way to bend, to groan, to move. Paul has been a client for so long that Viktor knew _exactly_ how to make him come running back to him every time.

“You’re beautiful as always,” Paul groaned as he started to thrust a little harder, fingers gripping at Viktor’s hair even tighter. He had no more than a few minutes at this point. “Fuck. You’re so...so tight right n—now.”

Viktor was honestly uncomfortable, but he moaned. The sex with Paul had its great moments, but this was unfortunately not one of them.

“Say my name, my love,” Paul whimpered.

And Viktor did.

After all that was done, Viktor would allow himself a few minutes to catch his breath and would do the clean up for the both of them. It was part of the job. Some clients liked doing it themselves, but Paul didn’t really care much for it, so Viktor assumed he’d be the one to.

“I’m sorry I can’t book you overnight this time, my love,” Paul ran his fingers along Viktor’s sides, his touches less heavy, satiated.

Viktor smiled, pillowing his head on his arm. “Busy?”

“I promised Catherine we’d go to Disney World on Saturday,” he chuckled. “Birthday.”

“That’s wonderful,” Viktor continued to smile, although the muscles on his cheeks began to strain. “How old is she?”

“Turning seven,” Paul began to trace circles along Viktor's hip, voice sounding thoroughly exhausted. “Next time, perhaps?”

Not a _perhaps_ , but a _definitely_. Paul’s never missed a month without booking Anatoly before.

“Just remember to drop a line at least a day before,” Viktor said, playfully scolding. “You know how I am when I don’t find the right suit.”

“We’ll get you one next time, my love. I’ll have you for a full weekend.” Paul said. “Did you like the cufflinks?”

The said cufflinks were now somewhere on the floor. Viktor will have to find those later. “They’re lovely. You didn’t have to.”

“Only the best for you.”

Paul was stunning for his age. He looked younger than he was, muscular, his grey hairs dyed, and with a job that could pay for Viktor’s services from Friday nights through Sunday afternoons in one transaction. He had two lovely daughters and a beautiful wife. He bought Viktor gifts, brought him along when he had business trips, and sometimes pretended Viktor would be there when they returned to Michigan.

Companionship was another thing people came to him for, and those were the ones Viktor sometimes liked better.

A while later, Viktor showered and began to dress. He noticed that Paul was pouting at him, a typical one at that. The lines on Paul’s face were more visible now, but they didn’t make him any less attractive; if anything, they added character to his face.

“Too soon? Can you squeeze in a few more hours?” Paul cocked his head to the side. And he _could_ if he wanted to. Viktor guessed he’ll pull out his phone to access his bank account if given the right answer.

“I’m sorry, dear,” Viktor smiled. “But I can’t.”

Paul’s eyes lit with understanding, and he shrugged. “Busy night?”

“I told you, call me at least a day before so I can arrange everything,” Viktor found the discarded cufflinks and slipped them into his pockets, the sleeves of his shirt were pulled up to his elbows, and his suit jacket slung over his arm. He kissed Paul on the cheek as he went to grab his coat. “I’ll see you soon?”

Once he’d bidden his client goodbye, Viktor quickly found Frank waiting down the street. He checked the plate number and slipped in, shrugging on his coat as Frank started driving down the next street.

When he was dropped at his usual spot, Frank asked, “I’ll pick you up at that restaurant at eleven?”

“Yeah,” Viktor said. “I’ll text you when I’ll be late, though. Do you still work until one?”

“Sorry, son,” Frank shrugged. “I’ll pick you up at eleven, but if you’re extending, give Lyndon a call instead, alright?”

“Alright,” Viktor huffed.

“Careful.”

“Always am.”

Viktor wasted no time rounding the corner to his apartment building. He’d have about two hours to prepare, but since he still smelled like sex and alcohol, he’d have a lot of scrubbing to do. He tossed the cufflinks into a drawer, taking a mental note to store them properly later in the morning, and shoved his soiled clothes into the usual hamper. He showered, pulled on a fresh grey suit, and did his makeup a little subtler this time.

It felt more like preparing for a really fancy date, except that he was required to go and couldn’t just back out, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. Even just a little bit.

From what he could see in the mirror, Anatoly looked like a different person from the one that was just at Paul’s apartment. Clients have their own tastes, as do most people. He fixed his hair a little more, just a tad bit, in the effort to make himself look a little older.

Finally, when everything was all set, he was out hailing a taxi for the second time that night. He muttered off the hotel’s name and drew back, letting the silence put him into a proper state of mind. Where he was going, he was going to meet people he’d probably never see again, he was going to be asked questions, he was going to have to lie, and that was _exhausting_.

At the hotel, there was already a spare keycard left for him. He gladly took it, smiled at the woman on the front desk, and went for the elevators. He found the right door, knocked a few times, and as it opened, he was assaulted with what seemed to be an overwhelmingly strong brand of rose perfume. But Viktor smiled through all that. He was a professional, you see. “Good evening.”

“Are you Anatoly?” the woman on the other side of the door asked, dressed in more Swarovski crystals than Viktor’s seen in his life, her blood-red lipstick matte and perfect, and her curled hair streaked with grey.

“Yes, madame.”

“Call me Linda,” she walked back and waved for him to come inside, eyes roaming around the room as if she were looking for something. “Dinner starts in thirty minutes.”

Viktor stepped in and closed the door behind him. “Anything I need to know before we go?”

“Your name is Petyr Ivanov. We met in Santorini and you’re taking time off work,” she said, and snapped her fingers, apparently remembering what she had been looking for. “You’re father runs a business in Russia and your mother stays at home. You have no siblings. You love chocolate cake—how many languages do you speak fluently?”

“Three.”

“Make it four.”

Viktor blinked. “Anything else?”

Linda picked up her gold clutch (which happened to be what she was looking for in the first place) and took Viktor’s arm. “You’re free to make up anything else they ask you about. Just remember to tell me or to make sure I’m within earshot so I don’t answer incorrectly.”

“And what might I be to you? Boyfriend?”

She looked up, as if to think about it for a second, and then, “We just met, so we go on dates. It’s nothing too serious, and I let you do what you want because you’re young,” she said. “And do be careful with Grace and Jenny, they’re very, very touchy when they see pretty faces, I’m afraid.”

Viktor flashed her a smile. “Allow me to escort you to dinner, Linda.”

“Alright, Petyr,” she said. “Let’s have a wonderful night, shall we?”

-

It was dull, as most rich people parties were—and Viktor’s been to a lot of them.

They were at one of the finest restaurants in town, reserved for the night, serving truffle dishes and thousand-dollar bottles of wine. There was chatter all over the place, fake smiles and boisterous laughter. He could practically hear people trying to outshine each other; from noticing clothes to fish for compliments to outright declarations of their businesses booming.

However, that did not mean that Viktor couldn’t blend in. He was marvellous at it, making polite conversation and dropping the right jokes at the right time. It’s brought him where he was now.

“So, Petyr,” A woman appeared by his side, holding what might turn out to be her last glass of champagne. Her cheeks were red and her eyes drunk and droopy, her speech slurring. “How does a young man like you meet someone like my friend here in Santorini? Did she do something?”

_Buy you something?_

“Oh, Grace,” Linda smiled stiffly. “It sounds like you’re underestimating me. Aren’t we best friends?”

“We are, sweetheart. And I love you, but _dear me_ ,” she looked at Viktor from head to toe, as if he were something she might be considering to buy off the shelves (which honestly wasn’t too far off, if she found the right website). “So what’s the status of you two? Marrying any time soon?”

Linda stiffened.

“It’s very new,” he replied; smoothly. “Although I would say I’m sticking around for a bit. Linda does make wonderful Italian food.”

Grace threw her head back and pretended to faint. “How can you be so perfect? I honestly thought she made you up,” she pouted. “Now I wish I got to Santorini first.”

Someone else cleared their throat—Bobbie, Viktor remembered. “You know what, Grace? Why don’t we find something to eat?”

“And somewhere to sit,” Linda murmured. She watched as her friend was getting hauled toward the buffet table, sipping at her own flute of champagne. Her eyes went to Viktor then, and she tipped her head and asked, “Alright?”

“I am,” Viktor said.

If it were his first time in occasions such as this, he would be overwhelmed, what with all the noise and the people inspecting him for damages or something like that. But Viktor was used to the scrutiny, used to looking good for someone else because that’s what he did for a living.

“You know what, you look a bit tired from standing too long,” Linda seemed to be staring at the other side of the room, looking for someone. “Why don’t you go grab a drink at the bar while I say hello to some old friends? You’ll be fine, yes? I’ll get back to you soon.”

Viktor nodded, smiling, and tapped her lower back to urge her on.

Trying his best not to visibly sigh, Viktor turned to the bar and began to relax. He was honestly grateful for the break, even if he guessed he was going to be introduced to the said ‘old friends’ in a little bit. Public appearances don’t pay as much, priced even lower than dinner dates, and yet they were the ones he found the most draining. He found some of his clients that way, whether it was a potential customer getting a taste for the experience or Viktor finding other people at the events.

With this many wealthy individuals in the room, there’s bound to be one or two willing to pay for his company. Grace might be a good candidate, but Viktor imagined Linda wouldn’t want her friends to know she had to hire someone to come with her on this rather expensive friends-only party. That would be kind of sad.

Perched on a barstool, Viktor raised his hand and asked for a glass of rum, on the rocks. He avoided drinking too much while working, but a free bar was a free bar.

“Here you go.”

He looked up to thank the bartender, and stopped.

Viktor’s seen men in expensive suits, covered in luxurious perfume, sipping at century-old wine—but the man in front of him, in ways that Viktor couldn’t explain, was _so_ pretty. He was wearing a standard-issue uniform, a little too big on him, and very similar to what the other staff members were wearing. Those didn’t do much to detract from his face, his pushed back dark hair, and wide-rimmed glasses (that were inarguably adorable).

Pretty Bartender blinked at him.

Oh. Had Viktor been staring?

Viktor must have given him a very, very odd look, since the said bartender was looking at him in confusion. “Is—is there something wrong with your drink, sir?”

Oh, dear me.

His voice was so soft, too. It suited his sweet face and demure posture, as if he really had no idea how he was making Viktor feel. Viktor opened his mouth to say something, but the bartender’s attention was pointed elsewhere when someone else asked for drinks.

Which he thought was a good thing. Viktor might have been overwhelmed and started on the wrong foot, but he could try again—after this other loud-mouth was done talking about his yacht to Pretty Bartender, that is.

When the Yacht Guy took his time, Viktor allowed himself to look around. The whole event itself was definitely on the more exclusive side, invitation only, but with nothing and no one to celebrate in particular. From Linda’s conversations, he could tell that everyone knew each other, save for new flings and spouses. Some people haven’t seen or talked to each other in a while, so Viktor guessed it was a reunion party? He really didn’t understand rich people sometimes, so he stopped trying.

His gaze went toward the corner of the room, where he spotted his date for the night—seemingly standing too close to a man Viktor’s been introduced to earlier. The said man was closer to Linda’s age, newly divorced, and apparently had the habit of seeking out younger women. The introductions earlier that night was a bit awkward, with Linda suddenly grasping at Viktor's arm tighter and all—

_Ah._

Viktor’s lips quirked up into a small smile.

Well, it was nice to help someone get with the man of their dreams.

He turned and drank his glass of rum, feeling a bit bold—and honestly, quite relived. His job was close to over for the night, he thought, and it would be a shame if he didn’t let himself loose a little.

Viktor raised a hand, now glad that Yacht Guy was nowhere to be seen. “Can you make me something less strong?” he asked. “Not too sweet, either. Please.”

Pretty Bartender nodded and began to work on Viktor’s drink. He had elegant fingers, Viktor thought, like a pianist’s. Well, if he didn’t say anything now, he wasn’t going to have much of a chance later on. And so, he figured he should start with, “What’s your name?”

Pretty Bartender looked at Viktor and pointed at his name tag, “Yuuri.”

Dammit.

“So, Yuuri,” Viktor tried to recover with a smile. “What do you think of the party?”

“It’s wonderful,” Yuuri replied. “I’ve never been to an event this...exclusive. It’s all very new.”

“Oh? So that means you don’t work here?”

Yuuri shook his head. “I don’t, actually. I’m just here to stand in for the guy who called in sick the last minute,” When he was done mixing Viktor’s drink, he poured the contents into a tall glass and garnished it with a slice of lemon. “Shouldn’t you be out there dancing?”

Viktor looked behind him and saw that people were indeed starting to dance. But the music was not to his taste, and why would he, when a perfectly beautiful stranger was right there in front of him?

“I prefer to sit down and talk, actually,” Viktor said, lifting his glass a little and bowed slightly, as if to make a toast to Yuuri. “You’re not bad company.”

“People in these events normally don’t talk to the bartender,” Yuuri shrugged, polishing a glass with a white cloth.

Viktor smiled. “And bartenders in these events aren’t normally as pretty as you.”

An adorable pink flush coloured Yuuri’s cheeks. He tilted his head down, as if to hide it, but not before Viktor committed the image to memory. Viktor was going to have to see that again, and soon.

“Petyr!”

Viktor had to be called three times before he turned around to see Grace, walking up to him drunkenly. She was surrounded by Linda’s friends, all in a circle as they drank and danced to the music.

“Join us!”

He hesitated for a moment, then he looked back. But Yuuri was once again occupied by something else, now talking to another woman who was asking for two glasses of Cosmopolitan.

Oh, to hell with it.

Viktor didn’t know what he was thinking, but he reached for his wallet, and dropped it on the other side of the bar. Nobody else seemed to notice what he just did, not even Yuuri, and straightened his suit as he got up to join Linda’s friends.

Had he been drunk, after all?

Should he have gone a little slower on the rum that night?

He wasn’t all that sure either, wasn’t sure what kind of impulse had taken over him as he did that, but he knew he had to think about the consequences later.

Whether or not things would go badly for him, was another problem for another time.

-

Viktor woke up far earlier than usual, which was to say, about eight in the morning.

It turned out that Viktor was right about Linda and her ‘old friend’. When practically everyone else was drunk out of their minds, she pulled Viktor aside and asked if it’d be alright if he went home on his own.

She even handed him a few bills for the ride, which Viktor all gave to Frank.

He was still blinking the sleep out of his eyes when his phone started ringing. Viktor reached for it blindly, arms flailing around to find the damn thing, and put it to his ear without looking at the caller ID. “Chris?”

No answer.

“Chris, did you need something?”

No one else would have called him that early. Had Chris just butt dialled him? Because that would be incredibly disappointing.

“ _Um_ ,” the person from the other line spoke, his voice almost a little shy, and _very_ familiar. In Viktor’s sleep-riddled mind, though, he really couldn’t put a face to the name. “ _Is this Viktor_?”

He blinked.

It was taking him to long to register a lot of things, but he felt that something was off. Should anyone be even calling him right now? What time was it in Russia?

“ _Hello?_ ”

“What was that?”

“ _Is this Viktor Nikiforov?_ ”

What in the hell.

Viktor hesitated, more awake now, and then, “Why?”

“ _You left your wallet at the restaurant last night_ ,” the voice on the other line said. “ _I don’t know if you remember, but it’s Yuuri. I just—I wanted to return it_.”

A pause.

“Oh,” Viktor said, feeling the sudden realisation come to him gradually.

What.

And then, when it came at full force, he shot up from where he was lying on the bed. “ _Oh_! Oh my god, I’m—thank you, Yuuri!”

Wow.

“ _It’s alright_ ,” Yuuri replied. “ _I was planning on returning it to you today. Do you—do you maybe want to meet up for that? If you live nearby?_ ”

“Yes,” Viktor spoke before he could even think. “Yes, sure. I would love that, thank you.”

“ _Okay. I won’t be available until five, though. How about you come to the bar I work at? My shift starts at six thirty?_ ”

Viktor almost wanted to laugh—because _how_.

How his crappy plan had come together this way was beyond his own understanding. Yuuri could have chosen not to return it, or he could have asked someone else to. Alternatively, someone else could have found it and Viktor would have risked people finding out major dirt on him.

And as to why he didn’t regret one bit of that, why he never put himself down for the various possibilities of those things going wrong—

“Jesus,” he fell back on the bed and sighed.

Viktor didn’t know if he was an idiot, or a sly genius.

-

The address Yuuri sent him was a great contrast from last night. It stood amongst the older independent shops, the streets lined by a chain of fast food restaurants, thrift stores, and local clothing boutiques. It was less busier than the usual places Viktor went to, but he kind of liked the quiet.

Once he found the place, he went in and immediately looked around for Yuuri. Six-thirty was apparently not the usual time people went in to drink themselves into oblivion, so there weren’t a lot of customers. Behind the bar, Viktor found Yuuri talking to another bartender, probably the one who’s just about to end his shift. In this setting, Yuuri wore something more casual, probably his own clothes—which for some reason stirred up delight in Viktor.

Like a nervous teenager, he stood there for a few moments longer before deciding to take a step forward.

He walked over, his hands in his pockets, fumbling with his phone and apartment keys like he was just about to ask the homecoming queen to prom. Which didn’t make sense, right?

Viktor should really stop jumping into conclusions.

When he was a few feet away from the bar, Yuuri saw him, and his eyes lit up (or Viktor was imagining it lighting up, but a man can dream).He really couldn’t trust his inner monologue right now.

“Oh, hi!” Yuuri said. “I didn’t know you’d come so early.”

Well, it wasn’t like he hadn’t been thinking about this moment for hours. Yuuri could ask him to go to an abandoned building at three in the morning and Viktor would still probably go. He’ll ask why, but he’d definitely go.

“No, it’s fine.”

“Right. Here,” Yuuri looked around for something (his jacket), pulled out Viktor’s wallet, and handed it over. “I saw it on my way out. I would have returned it to you at the party if I found it sooner.”

Thank heavens Yuuri didn’t find it sooner, then.

Out of his crappy staff uniform, Yuuri was lovely in a blue jumper and jeans. It brought out his eyes more. His hair, now a mop of black strands almost covering his eyes, gave off a different aura from last night—although equally as beautiful.

“That’s alright,” Viktor said. “At least now I have an excuse to see you again.”

The effect was instantaneous. Yuuri flushed pink, this time all the way to his ears, eyes darting to and fro from one direction to another. He had become flustered to a point that he didn’t know where to look. “I—You’re welcome?”

It was also a perfectly good excuse to get Yuuri’s number without having to ask, Viktor thought. He didn’t say that, of course, because _duh_. Viktor might be a mastermind but he wasn’t a stalker. Or he didn’t want Yuuri to think that, at least.

So he thought of the best way to keep the conversation going without making it seem to forward. He shrugged off his coat and pulled out one of the barstools. “You know what? I think I might want a drink.”

He didn’t think it was possible for a person's face to get any redder than Yuuri’s had been.

“Sure,” Yuuri said. “What do you like?”

“Surprise me. But not too strong. I have work tomorrow,” he said. Viktor continued on as he watched Yuuri fumble around for his mixer. “Do you do anything else besides work here?”

You see what he meant by sly genius?

“Hmmm?” Yuuri distractedly hummed, his attention focused on the cocktail in front of him. “Oh, I go to school during the day. All that boring stuff.”

Viktor almost choked at his own spit. “How old are you, then?”

“Twenty-one,” Yuuri said. “I wouldn’t be allowed to work here if I wasn’t.”

He tried his hardest not to express his relief. “Oh—I was worried there for a second.”

“Why?”

“I really don’t want to go to prison,” Viktor said. “Not even for someone as pretty as you.”

“Are you—” Yuuri had stopped midway through preparing the garnish, and was now staring at Viktor like he had just been hit by a truck. “Were you flirting?”

Oh, _wow_. Was he being subtle? Viktor sure hoped not. He would have been disappointed if he carried on without Yuuri noticing a thing.

“I was trying very hard, thank you for finally noticing,” Viktor said.

Yuuri only stared at him like he’d just lost his mind. “Oh. You’re...joking.”

Joking? Viktor could feel his face turning into a frown. That was _not_ what he intended for it to come across. He usually had so much control over his own expression, that it surprised him how much Yuuri’s reaction affected him. “What made you think I was joking?”

“I mean, I get hit on very often in here. I comes with the job,” Yuuri said, slowly continuing to add some garnish on Viktor glass. “But those were drunks who can’t see straight. We met last night. So, you’re joking.”

“And if I wasn’t?”

Viktor could feel Yuuri getting more and more flustered. He knew how to read people well, so he’d know if things were turning for the uncomfortable. If the conversation crossed that line, he’d stop, but Yuuri didn’t seem to show signs of pulling away.

He took that as a sign to push his luck. “Are you doing anything this Saturday afternoon?”

Finally, Yuuri served Viktor’s drink. He was still not looking at Viktor, still desperately hiding behind his hair, but he replied with, “No, not really.”

Wonderful.

“How about I take you to dinner, Yuuri?” Viktor leaned forward, smiling. “I really want to get to know you better. If that’s alright with you, of course.”

“I—”

The alarm on Viktor’s phone went off. He ignored it.

Yuuri looked around to find where the sound was coming from, caught on easily, and raised his eyebrows. “Your phone’s ringing.”

Great.

Viktor retrieved his phone and checked the note. It read, _Mr. Gabriel Walsh @_ _9_ _pm_. He frowned and turned the alarm off. He needed to leave soon, though. But was so close, so close to snagging a date with someone he rather liked, and he wasn’t about to give up now.

“So?” he smiled, hoping for the best. “What do you think, Yuuri?”

“Did you just reject a call?”

“A calendar alarm,” Viktor said. “So?”

“I—Alright,” Yuuri took a deep breath, still red and flustered and unbelievably adorable. “You’ll text me...whatever the plan is?”

“I’ll call you,” Viktor said, as he drank the whole glass down in one go and paid in cash.

Yuuri might have let out something akin to a squeak, but Viktor couldn’t tell from the surge of inexplicable excitement coursing through him. He stepped out of the bar heady and drunk, but not from the Vodka mixed into the cocktail. For the first time in a long time, Viktor found something to look forward to.

-

Viktor came out of the shower just before it turned twelve o’clock. He’d have enough time to dress himself and leave, and Frank was already on his way. That night’s appointment should have ended at eleven, but Gabriel had apparently liked him a little too much. So much so, that he asked, “I hear you offer weekend services too, Anatoly?”

He nodded as he quickly buttoned up his shirt. “Friday night through Sunday afternoon, love.”

“And might you be available tomorrow?”

Ah, nothing like new clients. They found something they like, book him for weeks straight until they’ve had their curiosity satiated. It wasn’t Gabriel’s first time hiring escorts, though he seemed like he had a habit of seeking out favourites.

“I’m sorry, love,” Viktor smiled. “I have other things to do.”

“Oh? Did he promise you something I couldn’t top?” Gabriel said. “I’ll pay two thousand more than what he’s giving you, if you like.”

Viktor almost laughed. “Nonsense, Gabriel,” he moved closer to kiss him on the cheek. “I have things to do, too. Laundry, cooking, groceries.”

“I’ll send someone to do that for you.”

“I’d rather do them on my own, but thank you,” Viktor said. “You can see me next week if you want. Dinner?”

Gabriel seemed to have finally given in and relented. “That would be lovely, alright,” he said. “Check your calendar for next week alright? Monday, hopefully.”

“Of course, love,” Viktor smiled. “For now, goodnight.”

As Viktor was riding home, he texted Yuuri a quick, _make sure to save my number on your phone!_

Because why wouldn’t he?

-

Viktor was in the middle of putting an outfit together when he heard his front door slam open. Bewildered by this, he quickly got out of his bedroom, only to find Chris looking pale and sweaty, like he had been in a rush to get there.

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be out—“

“What? What’s wrong with you?!” Chris asked, striding toward his best friend with worry, as if he was half-expecting Viktor to turn into a ferret in the next twenty seconds. “Answer the question, you idiot!”

Viktor blinked at him. “Hah?”

“What do you mean ‘ _hah_ ’?” Chris continued to inspect Viktor, like he was looking for injuries, checking his elbows, hands, his finger tips. “You said there was an emergency.”

“I did?”

“Yes,” Chris said. “You said, _Emergency. Need help. Come to my apartment when you’re done at the rink_.”

Right. Well, he’s going to have to explain himself. If Chris could just fucking calm down for one second, that is.

“About that...”

“I thought you were being held hostage!” Chris ran his fingers through his hair, then scratched his scalp in frustration. “Wait, are they still here? Are they making you act like nothing’s wrong so I don’t call for help?”

“Chris, no—“

“Then what’s wrong?!” he asked. “Did you trip and couldn’t get up? Did you break your arm? Did you hit your head so now you don’t remember it happening? Do you remember _me_?”

“I have a date!” Viktor waved his hands in front of Chris. “I have a date and I don’t know what to wear.”

A pause.

Chris’ jaw dropped. “What. The. Fuck.”

Yeah, Viktor felt the same way.

“They’re really making you say things aren’t they?”

Goddammit, Giacometti.

“Hey, hey,” Viktor said. “I’m really going on a date and no one’s taken me hostage. No one’s been here to do anything scary. I haven’t tripped and my memory is as good as it can be. I’m sorry for making you worry.”

Another pause.

Another moment of silence, then Chris exploded. “Oh my god. Did you know I was losing my mind when I realised I read your message hours after you sent it? I almost called the police!”

“Chris...”

“You don’t send your best friend something like that and not expect them to panic,” he huffed. “You don’t text like that. You don’t normally ask me to come here before a date. You never ask me for help unless you’re sick. Viktor, if this happens again...”

“It won’t,” Viktor said. “And if I’m in actual trouble, I’ll make sure to let you know.”

“Jesus,” Chris sighed, and then pointed a finger at Viktor. “Don’t do that again, please. You almost gave me a heart attack. In fact, I think I had one when I read that text.”

It had taken Chris a few minutes and a can of Diet Coke to calm down, all of which was done in silence. He must have been riding on nervous panic the whole way through, and had to take time before he even thought about Viktor’s date. When his head cleared, however, the questions started to pour in.

“So, you have a date?” Chris asked.

“Yes.”

“You don’t normally ask me to help you.”

“I know.”

“It’s—not the usual dinner dates, then?”

Chris must have meant work, because there really wasn’t any other ones besides those. In fact, Viktor couldn’t remember going to a proper date as himself and not as Anatoly.

Which was...kind of sad. But he wan’t going to think about that.

“No,” Viktor said. “It’s not work.”

For a moment, everything was still, and then Chris’ eyes went wide. He looked absolutely stunned, the kind that could pass for a meme on the internet, and Viktor almost wanted to laugh.

“Oh,” Chris said. “Oh, _mon cheri_. Who?”

“Someone I met two nights ago.”

“Can I see?”

Viktor sighed. Coincidentally, that had been his concern for the last few hours. “He doesn’t have Twitter or Instagram,” he said. “Maybe he’ll let me take a selfie with him. I’ll show you then?”

“That’s very strange.”

“Maybe he’s shy,” Viktor shrugged. “Well, he _is_ kind of shy. I don’t know. You’ll know when you meet him.”

Chris whistled. “Look at my man, getting it!”

“Hey...”

“Pretty sure he’ll put out,” Chris wriggled his eyebrows. “Will you, though?”

Viktor swore to god he’s never been flustered before. Was this how it felt like? He could hear his blood singing in his ears. Was his face supposed to feel warm or something? And _oh god_ , is Chris actually seeing him like this?

“Chris, we just met.”

“So? I’d fuck a guy on the first date if they’re hot,” Chris shrugged. “That’s up to you, though. But you have to promise me something.”

“What?”

“Text me when you’re home.”

“Okay.”

“Or when you’re at his place. Whatever,” Chris said. “I’m here to make sure you’re still alive by sunrise.”

“I’m pretty sure Yuuri’s not a serial killer,” Viktor muttered.

“Oh, is that his name? He sounds handsome,” Chris smirked. “But seriously. I don’t know why you think he’s good and trustworthy, so he must be nice, but I’d rather make sure you’re safe. Just text me when you’re home like the usual and my mind will be at peace when I wake up, okay? Any issues, call me right away.”

“I told you—“

“If the date goes badly and you need an excuse to leave, text me,” Chris said. “I’ll call you and pretend I’m giving birth.”

“You can’t give birth—“

“No excuses, Nikiforov.”

Viktor waved him off. “Fine, fine.”

“So,” Chris began to move around Viktor’s apartment with his Diet Coke. “What did you need help for?”

Ah, right. Viktor’s been at it for hours, actually. “Clothes.”

Chris looked taken-aback. “ _You_? Need help with clothes?”

“I’m serious,” Viktor frowned. “Okay, dinner out, first date. Not-too-fancy of a restaurant, but not too generic either. Sweater or suit?”

“Suit’s too much.”

“Right?”

“And the sweater’s too casual.”

“That leaves me with what?”

Chris had his fingers tucked underneath his chin, eyes looking at Viktor.

He still had his jeans on, sneakers, and a shirt he just pulled on after he showered. His room was a mess and he’s practically gone through every single pressed suit he had, and was still at a loss as to how he was going to dress himself that night.

Not until a fine little idea struck Chris. “Okay, to the bedroom, Nikiforov.”

“What?”

“You’ll see.”

That made Viktor nervous. This was Chris they’re talking about, but with Viktor’s closet, it was likely that things could go right.

Although, Christophe Giacometti was also the type to wear mesh that left nothing to the imagination to a formal dinner with a fuck-ton of conservative old people.

“I suddenly regret asking for your help,” Viktor muttered.

“None sense,” Chris hummed, circling and pushing Viktor along. “Remember that part where I asked if he’ll put out? Well, we’re making it happen.”

-

Christophe Giacometti might have a taste for clothing that could only be politely described as ‘very daring’, but Viktor couldn’t help but approve of one he slipped Viktor into. He made Viktor change out of his jeans into straight-cut trousers, ones that showed a little bit of his ankles, made him keep the shirt on, and picked out a suit jacket to make it look more smart. Viktor’s never tried it before, but to be honest, he did look like he was about to sweep someone off their feet.

“There we go,” Chris had said. “Go get yourself some booty.”

And instead of hailing a cab, he finally brought out his car, a thing that never happened when he went out for the night. He immediately drove to Yuuri’s address, toward the streets filled with more commercial buildings than there are places of residence, but very close to a local university Yuuri must be attending.

Once he was at the apartment building, Viktor felt himself smile. It’s been a while, but he remembered coming to Michigan for the first time and settled for something like the building in front of him. Four floors, probably eight units in all, a perfect affordable living space for a student still working his way through college.

Viktor had to check the door number multiple times before he decided that he was on the right unit, and knocked. There was shuffling from the other side of the door, some things falling to the floor, and someone cussing. Moments later, the door opened—

And it wasn’t Yuuri.

“Hello!” the said person greeted. He looked very young, maybe even younger than Yuuri. “I’m Phichit. Yuuri’s still in the bathroom, so can you wait in the living room for a second? He won’t be taking too long, I promise.”

Still confused, Viktor stepped inside and nodded. Phichit closed the front door and ran off to what Viktor assumed was the shared bathroom, and slammed the door shut.

Well.

Inside, Viktor could already tell that the unit wasn’t too big. Definitely not a place you can throw parties in, but definitely enough for two people who’re only there to eat and sleep. Everything was clean, so much so that you wouldn’t think two college boys were living in it. One tell-tale sign of the said college kids, however, was the PS4 set up on the corner, complete with a nice, wide LCD TV screen. Viktor didn’t know much about gaming, but at least he and Yuuri had something to talk about later.

“Stop fidgeting, Yuuri!” Viktor heard Phichit hissing from the other side of the bathroom door. He could hear some bottles being shuffled around, as if there was a whole struggle in there.

It didn’t take much longer before Yuuri stepped out of the bathroom, though. He was in nothing but jeans, loafers, and a nice sweater. His glasses were still perched on his nose, but his hair now pushed back like the first time Viktor’s met him.

Adorably, Yuuri ducked his head to acknowledge Viktor. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Viktor smiled. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri’s eyes slid to the side, and then turned to slits.

Phichit was apparently jumping around like a mad fangirl in the background. From then on, Viktor decided he liked him.

-

There was a nice restaurant a few miles away. Some of Viktor’s clients took him to dinner there, and he loved the food. Since it was the first time Viktor’s gone out to something like this as himself in a long time, he figured he might as well did everything he could to impress a date.

That, however, didn’t seem to have the effect he wanted.

Yuuri was rather overwhelmed when they pulled up at the establishment, suddenly pulling at the hem of his sweater when he saw the valet coming up to take Viktor’s keys. As the host was leading them to their table, Yuuri looked even stiffer than he was much earlier, and Viktor began to worry. Was it too much? Should he have gone for something simpler?

“Hey,” Viktor whispered to him once they were seated. “Are you alright?”

“Huh?” Yuuri looked up, surprised by the question. “Oh. Yes.”

“You look a bit antsy.”

And then, Yuuri’s face softened. He sighed, rubbing his palms together anxiously. “It’s just that I haven’t been to anywhere this fancy before,” he said. “What if I broke a glass? Or a plate?”

Viktor held back a laugh. There was something so endearing about the way Yuuri looked like he was a deer in the headlights, but Viktor didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable. There was no way this date should end up bad or weird or uncomfortable. “You’re doing fine,” he said. “People like to pretend they’re fancy sometimes, so they come here. Half of them really aren’t that loaded.”

Yuuri raised his eyebrows. “You want me to pretend I know what I’m doing?”

“No, you can put your feet on the table if you like,” Viktor said. “The servers really don’t mind. And the patrons mostly just keep to themselves.”

“I think they’re judging me in my sweater right now.”

“I bet they’re jealous because you look so pretty right now.”

Yuuri opened his mouth, as if to say something, and the suddenly realised what Viktor had just said. “You don’t have to flatter me to make me feel better.”

“I won’t have to,” Viktor said. “I first saw you in that hideous uniform, what does it matter now what you wear? Which, for the record, looks really, really good on you by the way.”

With that, Yuuri seemed to relax. The tension around his shoulders slowly receded, his expression calmer. Viktor can do better.

What’s a better distraction than a proper conversation?

“So, what do you want to start with?” He gestured at the menu.

“Oh, right,” Yuuri looked at the menu on the table like he’s seen it for the first time, and began to look at the list of items on it. Viktor was looking for an appetizer to start with when Yuuri suddenly said, “I think they gave me the wine menu.”

“What?” Viktor looked at the said menu, and it was very similar to his. “No it’s not.”

He checked again.

Yuuri looked absolutely gobsmacked. “I—I can’t order from this—”

“Don’t look at the prices,” Viktor said, but that seemed to encourage Yuuri to look at them even more.

“What are _these_?”

Well, there went his attempt to make Yuuri less anxious.

But Viktor won’t let the night start out this way. He liked Yuuri too much to allow anything to get in the way of their first date.

“Hey, listen.” Viktor reached out, but not for contact, but to catch Yuuri’s attention. He put his hand on the table next to Yuuri’s, careful and not too forward. “Hey. I’m the one who asked you to dinner with me. I’m the one paying. Don’t worry about it.”

He managed to hold his gaze for a while, put all the encouragement he could. And it was understandable—if Yuuri was indeed a college student working at night, he definitely wasn’t the kind of person who splurged so much money on dinner. Viktor was only trying to make the date special, to make Yuuri feel special, and he hoped he got that message through.

Yuuri sighed. “Okay.”

He eventually chose one of the salads, and when Viktor looked it up, he would discover that it was the cheapest thing on the menu.

Viktor raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“I—” Yuuri almost deflated in defeat, having been found out. “Fine, I’ll order something.”

“You can ask the waiters for recommendations if you want,” Viktor said. “Or you can ask me.”

As Viktor would learn throughout the night, things do not happen just because you want them to.

Yuuri was still hesitant to choose anything expensive, he had to tell Viktor multiple times that he didn’t know what the dishes are. Viktor had to explain a few, assure him they were worth it, and Viktor would have ordered them for himself. At first, Viktor did all the talking, to make sure there was no dead-air in between conversation topics, and to make sure Yuuri’s not left with his nervous fumblings.

Eventually, after a few sips of his wine, Yuuri began to relax. That was when things got a lot better for the both of them, and Viktor was relived to see him enjoy himself more.

Viktor learned that Yuuri was indeed attending the local college around the area, a Hotel Management major, and was raised by wonderful parents in Japan. Before he worked as a bartender, he did night shifts in a local Chinese take out, and eventually found a better job as soon as he was twenty-one. He liked dogs, a dish called _katsudon_ , and liked to ice-skate with his friend Phichit when he had the time.

“I bet you’ll want to meet a friend of mine,” Viktor said.

“Really?” Yuuri said. “What’s he like?”

“He figure skates.”

“Competitively?”

“Yes, I think.”

Yuuri looked like he almost choked on his wine. “Who?”

Playfully, Viktor pouted. “Hey, don’t sound _too_ eager. Chris had plenty of things going for him. Let me have this, Yuuri.”

However, no matter how much effort Viktor put into his pouting, Yuuri still looked really shocked. And fanboying. It was all Viktor could ever hope to see. “Chris? Like, Christophe?”

Viktor almost wanted to laugh. And to sigh, because of course, Chris would get the attention. He always did. “Christophe Giacometti, yes.”

“Wow,” Yuuri sat back. “I mean, I don’t mean to sound too eager or anything—it’s just that—”

“Just what?”

“It’s just that you come up to me—almost out of nowhere, I might add—and ask me to dinner. You brought me to this fancy restaurant, and now I’ve been informed your friends with famous people,” Yuuri sighed. “I really appreciate it, but I keep wondering if someone's going to jump out with a camera and say that this whole date was a prank.”

Viktor could feel his lips tug into a small smile. “Is that what this is? A date?”

That familiar little shriek that Yuuri did made a reappearance, his face beet-red and flustered, hiding behind his hands. “I—I don’t mean to imply—I just...”

“Just what, Yuuri?” Viktor added a slight lilt to his voice, just a bit.

“Viktor...”

“I mean, I get that you might not want anything too serious right now, but I did mean for this to be a date, so...”

Yuuri looked to Viktor in between the gaps of his fingers, still shielding himself from the embarrassment. “What?”

“So if you want to call it that, I’d be very, very pleased.”

Please.

A moment, and then, Yuuri said, “Okay.”

“What was that?” Viktor was pretty sure he heard that, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to hear it again.

“I said, okay,” he repeated. “I’d be glad to call it a date.”

Viktor’s face broke into a smile, and he never really stopped smiling until dinner was over.

-

It would come as an astounding realisation to Viktor when stepped out of that restaurant not knowing what to do next. Which was strange. In his line of work, Viktor filled in gaps when people left it open, and made sure that it’s the absolute best decision. He was, so to say, in a dilemma. Yuuri had become comfortable enough with him that he allowed Viktor to hold his hand on their way out. He even let Viktor put a hand on his knee when they drove back to his apartment.

All Viktor had to do was ask.

If he got rejected, that was fine. If he found out Yuuri was down, even better. So why wasn’t he asking now? What was it that was holding him back the whole ride through?

He kept thinking about this when they were at the elevators, down the hallway, and once they were in front of Yuuri’s unit. They didn’t have to say goodbye, not yet, if he asked.

“How was it?” Viktor asked.

“You didn’t have to ask,” Yuuri smiled. “You knew it was awesome.”

Ask.

“Well, did I pass for date number two?”

What.

Yuuri looked up, thinking, almost teasing. And then, “Alright,” he said. “But I’m paying next time.”

“Lovely.”

To his surprise, it was _Yuuri_ who went in for a kiss. It was gentle and undemanding. It was a sweet goodbye, with a promise to see each other again.

And yes, Viktor really wanted to see him again.

When the doors to Yuuri’s apartment unit closed, Viktor’s heart was beating unlike any other way before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya!
> 
> HMU at tumblr [@anna-domini](https://anna-domini.tumblr.com/)


	2. Break The Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Behold date No. 2

Not all of Anatoly’s clients are there for the sex.

He might have been in the same bed as the rich and powerful, the sleek and charismatic, but he’s also been with the lonely. A lot of them were, and sometimes, Viktor liked them better.

Viktor liked spending lazy evenings with a woman named Barbara, who was divorced, but didn't have any children. She asked nothing of him except to watch movies on the weekends with her, and sometimes treated him to wonderful stay-in dinners. Barb was intelligent, great at conversations, although slow to warm up to newer faces. At the moment, they were seated on her couch, watching the second _Back to the Future_ movie, with a thick blanket warming them both.

She was clinging to Viktor, her head comfortably pressed against his chest, and his arm wrapped tightly around her. As for intimacy, they never really got past that point, even if Viktor didn’t mind if it did.

“When I was watching these, I always wanted to marry someone like Doc,” she said. “Or at least someone who could build me a time machine. I guess I was a delusional teenager, huh?”

“Not delusional,” Viktor said. “Although you really need a lot of money for that. If you had a time machine, though, would you let people know?”

“Probably not,” Barb said. “I bet the government is either going to come for me and steal it or people will desperately try to get to it to change their fuck ups. Imagine the horror.”

“You can always run away from them,” Viktor said. “Hop on to your time machine and they’ll never find you.”

“And risk disrupting the space-time continuum?”

Viktor pulled her a little closer. She liked contact, craved it, and he gave it to her when he could. “Well then, we live our lives onwards the best we can. Nothing worse than a _Flashpoint_ _Paradox_.”

Barb rolled her eyes and shifted her head to look at him. She might not be what people would consider traditionally beautiful—although Viktor told her they were wrong, every time—but she was lovely in so many other ways. Back then, he even thought he might be able to fall in love with her.

But then he thought, clients don’t usually want that from him, don’t they?

One of the best reasons to hire someone like Viktor, after all, was that he had no emotional strings attached. The money made sure of that.

Even so, as time passed, he found out he couldn’t love her the way he thought he would. He couldn’t explain why that was, or why it’s really never happened before, but he guessed things don’t happen the way you expect them to.

“I know I’ve said this before,” she said. “But you talk like you’re older than you say are.”

Viktor kissed the top of her head, her hair smelling faintly of lilac shampoo. “Why’s that?”

“You know I don’t believe you’re twenty-two.”

And she was right not to, but Viktor couldn’t break from Anatoly’s mask. He didn’t have the proper memory to maintain his fake identity, let alone make multiple ones across different clients.

“I told you, I am twenty-two,” he said. “Have I ever lied to you, Barb?”

“Maybe not,” she said.

But Barb knew fully well Viktor was lying. She was a clever woman who could do well on her own, and like everyone else, she just needed the comfort of someone in her life.

Viktor even liked her enough to give her a special rate. It wasn’t too big of a discount, but very rare. Not even his monthly regulars got the same treatment.

Besides, it wasn’t like he lied about his age _too_ much. He wasn’t in his forties trying to pass for a twenty-two year old to reel in more customers. He was just following the supposed story he’s established from the beginning of his career, nothing more. At least the more information he falsified, the less likely it would be to trace Anatoly’s job back to him.

But he couldn’t help it if some people thought the three-years made a big difference. Some people, after all, prefer someone who was twenty-seven than the other who just turned thirty.

“I think I want some popcorn,” Barb said, removing herself from their warm cocoon of blankets. “What flavour do you like?”

He moved to stand. “I’ll make it.”

“Please,” she shook her head. “It’s just popcorn.”

Viktor shrugged, grabbing the remote to put the movie on pause. “Sour cream?”

“With a little more salt?”

He nodded. She knew him so well.

“Coming right up.”

He followed her to the kitchen, which was top-notch, filled with modern equipment and marble countertops.

It wasn’t unusual for Barb to cook for him on a Saturday night, and in return, Viktor did something nice for her in the mornings. His pancakes weren’t the best, but she liked them. Or liked the idea of them. Viktor didn’t know what it felt like to have someone bring breakfast to him while he was still in bed, but he thought it must be amazing.

They talk about most things, almost like old friends—and if Viktor was being honest, Barb might as well be.

She was kind and paid attention to him, as he did for her, and that’s why they enjoyed each other’s company so well. Sometimes he wondered if he could just take a moment, stop pretending, and tell her everything; but that would be unprofessional of him. Maybe she wouldn’t want to see him again after that.

Or she simply enjoyed the thrill of it, too.

“Are those tulips?” Viktor looked to a small vase at the corner of the room, where yellow tulips were beautifully arranged. Barb usually didn’t keep flowers in her apartment. Potted plants, yes, but not cut flowers.

Barb, who was mid-way through sorting the kernels, glanced at the said tulips. “Oh, yeah. Aren’t they lovely?”

Viktor recognised the expression almost immediately, and said, “Beautiful. What’s their name?”

All of the sudden, Barb stopped to straighten up, as if she was caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. Like she was about to say something she dreaded to say.

“I’m sorry,” Viktor said. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

He really shouldn’t have. All that thinking was messing with his judgement.

“No, I should have told you. I didn’t want you to feel weird or anything like that, Anatoly.”

He imagined Barb finally meeting the person who made her happy, someone who’d be there to stay, someone sweet enough to bring her flowers for no good reason other than to make her feel special. She deserved that, more anyone on the planet. If it didn’t work out with her first husband, that didn’t mean it was her fault, and someone needed to remind her of that.

“And you know it’s alright if you’ve met someone,” Viktor smiled. “It’s still up to you if you want to continue seeing me, and really, you shouldn’t feel like you _have_ to tell me everything.”

Because of course, Barb would feel bad. She was too kind. To be honest, sometimes she made Viktor feel like he’s the one who needed the companionship and not her.

“Alright,” Barb smiled weakly, and continued to work on the popcorn, although her movements were much more controlled this time. More hesitant, as if she was distracted by something else. “You know, I’ve always wondered about you.”

“What about me?”

“I always wondered if a man as handsome as yourself has someone in his life,” Barb said. “I mean, you’re wonderful, and smart, and a delight to be with. I couldn’t imagine you not finding the right person.”

Viktor’s heart instantly thrummed, because somewhere in between the words Barb had just said to him, there was a face that instantly flashed in his mind.

“No, I don’t have anyone right now,” he said. “You know how it is, Barb.”

There was an implication of something else in the way Viktor said it, knowing fully well that Barb was going to understand. It was testament to how long she’s become a part of Viktor’s routine, how much of his time was spent with her.

“So? Does it matter what you do?” She raised her eyebrows. “If they don’t think that’s alright, then they’re not the right person for you.”

“Easy for you to say,” Viktor said. “You’re amazing.”

“And you are, too,” she said. “Listen, I don’t think you haven’t met someone yet. I just think you’re worried what would happen once things got serious. Tell them about it, and see where it goes.”

Viktor sighed. “Barb, that normally doesn’t work for people like me.”

“None sense,” she said. “Horrible individuals find wonderful people in their lives. And you, my dear, are _wonderful_. I’ll bet there’s a few who already expressed interest? I never took you for a bad judge of character either, if that helps.”

Well, it’s not as if it were that easy.

Viktor couldn’t just go and tell people that he was an escort without compromising his professional identity. He really didn’t want Viktor Nikiforov to be associated with Anatoly.

Not that he was ashamed or forced to be what he was, but he wanted a clean slate just in case he was ready to leave everything behind.

He thought he could just wait until then, so he never really went out of his way to build relationships with other people. Not one except with his friend Chris, whom he’s already known for most of his life.

“Fine, I’ll tell you all about what’s happening to me,” he said. “If you spill in return.”

Barb smiled. “Sure. Now, the popcorn’s almost done. Are we still up for _Back to the Future III_?”

“Oh, yes,” Viktor cheered. “Yes, please.”

-

Building new relationships as himself was a bit of a struggle.

Viktor’s always done things so flawlessly as Anatoly that he somewhat found it to be confusing. He’s so used to hiding behind someone else’s identity for so long, for so much of his life, that he sometimes forgot how to act.

Yuuri was also very, very shy. He wouldn’t go out of his way to say that Yuuri was being difficult, definitely not, but he also wasn’t making certain things easy.

But that’s okay. Viktor liked him too much not to try.

So when he had the opportunity, he texted, _do you have free time at lunch_?

Because why not?

Viktor didn’t do much when the sun was out, sadly, so how else was he going to spend the day? He promised Barb that he was going to at least _try_ , to see where it went, and he was doing just that.

“You know, I don’t normally get asked to grab lunch before a second official date,” Yuuri said, stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork. “Not that it’s wrong or anything! I just—I never expected you’d want to see me again so soon!”

“Here I thought I was being too forward,” Viktor chuckled. “That’s okay. How much time do you have before the next class?”

“About an hour?” Yuuri checked his watch. “I’m usually at the library at lunch.”

“You eat lunch there?”

“No, I forget to eat,” Yuuri sighed. “Phichit brings me coffee sometimes.”

Viktor frowned. “That can’t be good.”

“Yes, but they have mozzarella sticks at work and they’re _so_ good,” Yuuri closed his eyes, as if the chicken in his mouth was going to transform into the said mozzarella sticks if he tried hard enough. “You should try them sometime.”

“Is that an invitation to visit you at work?”

“I hope not,” Yuuri said. “How am I supposed to do my job properly?”

And then, having realised what he just said, Yuuri squeaked.

It was hard for Viktor not to laugh. Or giggle. Not at Yuuri, but at how endearing his actions were. Viktor hoped that he never really lost that kind of shy sweetness about him. It was all too precious, too innocent—it was lovely.

“Hey Viktor,” Yuuri said. “If you don’t mind me asking, what do you do? I mean—it’s okay if you think I’m overstepping boundaries...”

Viktor caught himself before he could frown. “Oh, no. It’s alright,” he grinned. “I’m self-employed. So I get to do most of my work whenever I want to.”

Easy.

Only because he’s thought about that answer before even going on that first date with Yuuri. He imagined it would have gone differently if he wasn’t so prepared.

“Lucky,” Yuuri sighed. “It would be so convenient to have a hand in your own schedule.”

“Not all the time,” Viktor chuckled nervously. He normally didn’t walk the line between his work life and his personal one, and right now, the lines were blurred. Dangerously. “I oversleep sometimes. And I stay up too late. It depends on what I’m working on, though.”

“So you have like, people working for you and stuff?”

Viktor’s throat tightened, almost at instinct.

He didn’t know which lie he was going to say, how he should fabricate a story then. There was no Anatoly Petrishchev to draw from, not one of his listed qualities; it was all just Viktor, and he still had to _lie_.

“I work for people,” Viktor said. “I’m an interior designer that freelances in selling antiques. Stuff like that.”

And it was worth it, because Yuuri smiled. He looked like he appreciated this new information, a little something about Viktor that he could remember for another time.

It wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t a full-on lie. Viktor just needed to bend it a little bit so he didn’t have to dump it all out in one go if he were to confess everything one day. It wasn’t like Viktor told him he was a businessman with at least a hundred employees that work day and night.

(That one would probably explain the obscene amount of money he just spent on their first date, but it was a trickier lie to keep up.)

Viktor needed to detract the conversation away from him real quick. Something, _anything_ —

“You told me you liked skating,” he said. “Are you in a club?”

Okay, good.

That was a great question.

Viktor knew Yuuri was involved enough in the sport that he knew Chris. Which meant that he was interested enough to watch competitions or read news about it. It could be that he was only doing if for fun, and the conversation wouldn’t be as in-depth, but it at least wouldn’t lead to questions about Viktor’s job.

Maybe if Viktor kept going, he’s going to get Yuuri to talk about himself more. Outside of Viktor’s efforts to derail the topic, Yuuri really _should_ talk about himself more.

“Yeah, but I’m just there for to support, mostly,” Yuuri said. “I work until three at the bar, depending on how many customers coming in, so I guess it wouldn’t be very smart for me to compete like the others.”

“And do you want to?” Viktor asked. “Compete, I mean?”

Yuuri hummed, chewing at his food thoughtfully. “Maybe. But not as much as Phichit, though,” he said. “It’s a toss-up between helping with my family’s restaurant or establishing my own hotel at this point, to be honest.”

Great, Viktor could keep going from there.

“Do they teach you how to cook? In class, I mean?”

“They don’t,” Yuuri frowned, as if this saddened him deeply. “But I can cook a few things. Phichit’s useless in the kitchen, so I do most of it.”

Viktor found himself gasping in delight. “Would it be too much if I asked you to cook for me sometime?”

“That depends,” Yuuri sipped on the straw of his lemonade, eyes on Viktor. “Will you be able to get that pass after date number two?”

Oh, wow.

That honestly had Viktor overwhelmed. Because as much as he wanted to see Yuuri blushing, he wanted to see this side of him too. There was so much to learn about him, and Viktor was ready to stay for the ride.

“Sure, I can,” Viktor said, confidently. “In fact, now that there’s so much at stake, I will do everything in my power to make it the best one ever.”

“But you’re not the one paying.”

“So?”

“Things won’t be as fancy?”

“Doesn’t bother me at all.”

True.

Yuuri smiled, almost shyly, as if his sudden spike of playfulness had left him. “It still helps if you don’t expect too much, though,” he said. “I’m really more comfortable with grease and all things bad for you.”

“Not a problem,” Viktor grinned.

He couldn’t wait.

-

“What do you think, Anatoly?”

Viktor shifted his focus on the man in front of him again. Chewing on his steak as he sifted through hundreds of responses that were deemed to be proper in situations like these—proven ones, sassy ones, demure ones. He chose from a catalogue of words he needed to say, something elusive and delightful, something to make them hungrier for a touch of Viktor as the night went on.

Businessmen often asked his opinion on things, but his made-up interests never truly had any weight whatsoever. They just like him to stroke their ego, sometimes appreciated someone who spoke their mind, and Viktor responded depending on what they like. And sometimes, he chooses to say something wholly uncalled for.

Some people, after all, liked that he bites.

“And why do you think my opinion matters...in whether or not you should keep your employees?” he asked, his voice lowered more than usual, melodic and welcoming. It hinted something else, a promise of something else.

The man smiled, definitely delighted. “Oh, I don’t know. Any outside opinion helps,” he said. “You have no direct contact with these people and have nothing to lose if any of them got fired. Who’d be a better judge?”

Indeed.

“I think a probation would be best in times like these, to be honest,” he said. “You don’t build loyalty by employing people who are scared of you. They’ll trust you because you understand.”

The man raised his eyebrows.

Viktor was still trying to remember his name, so he thought about sneaking a look at his phone later.

His client leaned back on his chair, looking sceptical. “And if they think I’m becoming too lax?”

“Then deliver the worst punishment,” Viktor said, confidently. “Nothing like a nice guy suddenly going quiet and firing people one by one. At least they know they’ve really screwed up big time.”

Viktor really didn’t know what he was talking about. He knew nothing about running a business and over-seeing people working for him. It’s not even certain that this man would listen to him, but Anatoly was smooth, spoke his mind, and virtually uncaring of the things around him.

Anatoly cared about nothing other than his looks, his watches, his shoes, his clothes. He seduced men and women he went to dinner with, brought them pleasure, and knew how to make them come back for more.

People are interested by the mystery of him, how elusive he was, and his clients _loved_ it.

“You know I’ve always wondered where you came from,” the man said. “Surely, someone as beautiful as you couldn’t have escaped my eye. I would have approached you the moment I saw you.”

Viktor smiled. “I enjoy my free time alone, mostly.”

“You don’t go partying with friends?”

“Private ones,” he said. “And if we did go out, it would be to clubs that aren’t fully-packed. I come for the drinks, not for the dancing.”

“Why? You don’t dance much?”

“One way to find out,” Viktor sneaked in a sly grin, something for him to think about later. Maybe something for this man to look forward to once he’s finally out of town.

They were at a restaurant near the man’s hotel room. A visiting tycoon, probably wouldn’t see Viktor again until his next business trip, but it didn’t hurt to add another person to his clientele. Not when they tipped so generously.

For new clients like these, it was a matter of guess-work. Do they like something or not? Do they prefer that he took charge? Viktor prided himself in being able to read people’s reactions, their body language, and in turn allowed him to know how and when to act and speak.

“You know,” the man said. “I have a business trip in Georgia this weekend. Think you can come with me? I have a private jet.”

And there it is.

It’s funny how people automatically assume he’d grow an erection from the thought of private jets and caviar dreams. Viktor can afford a trip to Hawaii on his own, let alone Georgia; thank you very much. Maybe not in a private jet, but enough for a vacation to clear his mind.

“Ah, I’m afraid I have other things to do, my dear,” Viktor offered him a smile. “Next time, perhaps?”

“Is that a promise?”

“Anything for you.”

And later, Viktor would discover that his client had brought a friend—not something too strange, but definitely rare. Most people are normally ashamed of having to hire him, let alone share him.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” Viktor asked, dropping to his knees to undo the man’s zipper.

“I know. Why don’t you show our man Dave here a good time,” he took Viktor’s chin so he could look him in the eye, voice low. “And I’ll triple the tip. You have enough condoms, sweetheart?”

Viktor took him in his mouth as a response.

Because why not?

-

Sometimes, Viktor’s work life affected his personal one.

It wasn’t much of a bother as it was a common annoyance, but it still needed to be dealt with whenever it happened. He hasn’t been in situations where they really got him into trouble—nothing bad has ever happened to him, really—so it was safe to say that all of it was mostly just Viktor overthinking.

 _You can never be too careful_ , Chris had told him the first time Viktor’s said something about his real job, and Viktor had taken it to heart ever since.

One particular incident happened when he was out to get his groceries, accompanied by Chris, because what else would he do on a Wednesday afternoon?

“I envy you,” Chris said, looking longingly at the box of frozen pizza in Viktor’s shopping cart. “I had to send a photo of a pack of hotdogs to my coach this morning to ask him if I’m allowed to eat them.”

Viktor playfully picked out a block of cheese and asked Chris if he wanted some mac n’ cheese. Which of course, earned him a frown. A very jealous frown.

“What did he say?”

“He asked me to check the calories and protein and fat content and stuff,” Chris sighed. “So naturally, I gave up on it and went to make myself something out of whole oats. I can’t wait ‘til I retire and stuff my face with two gallons of ice cream.”

“Don’t you do that already?”

“Not everyday!”

Chris continued his lamenting on how he’s never had a bite of pastry since the beginning of the season and how he hasn’t been to his favourite pasta place for months. Viktor was really glad he didn’t do what Chris was doing, as he wouldn’t know how to survive otherwise.

“Hey, we have this thing on Saturday.”

“I don’t understand what you mean by ‘thing’,” Viktor said, eyeing a box of toiletries and figuring out whether or not he liked that body butter a female client bought him two weeks ago.

“A skater thing,” Chris said. “Like, a party.”

“I’m not a skater.”

“Yeah, but I’ve introduced you to most of them,” Chris said. “I think from now on, you’ll have a VIP pass as my plus one to any skater-exclusive thing I go to.”

“That’s just really sad,” Viktor said. “Why not bring a date?”

“Not everyone has a plus one privilege,” Chris corrected. “They just really like you and wouldn’t mind if you went. So? Wanna go?”

And even if Viktor _did_ want to go, well, let’s just say one of Chris’ competitors found their way into Viktor’s website—and was now very weird about it.

That was alright; some people actually didn’t know how to act normal and pretend like Viktor never sold them sex once upon a time. It didn’t come to a point where the other skaters figured it out, or that he confronted Viktor about it, but it was still pretty awkward.

Viktor did make sure to hint that Chris was his childhood friend and not a client though, just in case the slimy little bastard decided it would be best to ruin Chris in other things if they couldn’t beat him on the ice. Although Chris would surely defend him, and maybe even joke about canoodling with Viktor for a price, but Viktor would very much rather stay away from the spotlight.

“About that,” Viktor said. “I have somewhere else to go on Saturday, so...”

“Business trip?”

“No.”

Chris’ mouth turned into a perfect ‘o’, eyes wide and teasing. “Second date?”

Viktor nodded.

“The first one went _that_ well?” Chris shook his head. “Wow. So tell me, was he good? Is he a keeper? I mean, I’m all for love no matter what, but if it leaves you unsatisfied all the time—”

“We didn’t.”

Chris blinked repeatedly, confused. “Didn’t hit it off? What’s this second date for? To try again?”

“No, Chris. The first date was amazing,” Viktor sighed, almost as if in a daydream. “We just _didn’t_.”

“As in, didn’t do the do?” Chris asked, eye twitching. “As in, you didn’t get laid? Didn’t have sex?”

By the looks the other patrons were giving them, he could already tell Chris was speaking too loud. Chris had always been shameless about most things, as did Viktor, but this was too much.

You would think someone like Viktor was more vocal about what he did and didn’t do in the bedroom. Guess again.

“No,” he muttered, still madly looking around to make sure no one was close enough to hear any more of Chris’ declarations of ‘doing the do’. “And would you please keep the volume down? It’s making other people uncomfortable.”

“I bet they’re listening in,” Chris said. “That’s what I would do.”

“That’s because you have no concept of personal space,” Viktor deadpanned.

“No, _cheri_ ,” he said. “I just like nice, juicy gossip to fuel my bland life, is all.”

“By poking into other people’s.”

“Don’t pretend like you never do that,” Chris teased. “I have keys to your apartment, Viktor. I know you so well by now that I might as well recite your search history from memory.”

“All my devices have passwords.

“Guess again.”

Viktor gasped. “Chris, if I ever find out my ‘drunk texts’ were actually sent by you...”

“To your family in Russia,” Chris snorted. “Yeah, like I’d know how to write in Cyrillic.”

As minutes passed, people seemed to have forgotten about them, but Viktor didn’t need it to escalate to anyone clearing their throats or filing restraining orders. Or call the police and took them to court for public indecency.

Then again, Christophe Giacometti was still walking free, so maybe they were safe for now.

“I didn’t take you for a bashful guy,” Chris huffed, as the continued down the food aisle, picking up the conversation where they left it off.

“I’m not, but can we just—”

Something caught Viktor’s eye—no, _someone_.

She looked about in her forties, definitely married, as he concluded from looking at her left ring finger. She was dressed smartly, beautifully even, as if she weren’t the kind of person that should be in a local grocery place. No, she’s beneath that—she’d be too _expensive_ for that—but that was just a weird coincidence right? A lot of strange things happen every day, and this one shouldn’t be something that should concern him.

“It—it’s just that we need to be more, uh, civilised,” Viktor said, his thoughts elsewhere. He was sputtering now, trying to remember the woman’s face the best he could, but nothing to avail.

Maybe he was just being paranoid?

“What?”

Viktor tried to carry on the conversation with Chris, careful to keep an eye on the said woman, but not too blatantly vigilant as if he were watching.

“Something wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Chris whispered to him, his voice barely audible this time, so low that even Viktor had to fill in some of the words to get the gist of it.

“Nothing,” Viktor smiled. He went on to walk down the aisle, pretending to look for something to add to his cart, all the while still paying attention to his surroundings. “I’m just trying to remember something I really needed to get. And it’s not coming to me.”

Chris picked up quickly, and began listing toiletries, as if he was helping Viktor remember what he needed.

He kept racking his brain as to why he was feeling something bad was going to happen. He wanted to know why his instincts were telling him to flee.

But maybe it’s just the way it was for people like him.

And like he normally said, it came with the job.

Whenever Viktor saw someone in a place where they normally shouldn’t be, he’s hit with the instinct to flee. When someone coincidentally came into the same two boutiques as him at a mall, he felt like he was being followed. When someone stared at him too long, he would assume they were trying to remember where they saw him before.

His privacy was one of the things that he valued above all else, and in turn would protect Chris’, too. And even if Chris wasn’t a well-known international athlete, Viktor wouldn’t wish for someone else’s reputation to suffer because of him.

“Viktor,” Chris said, his hand grasping Viktor’s shoulder. “Are you okay? You’re turning pale.”

“Let’s check out,” Viktor said, pushing his cart toward the line of cashiers.

-

Most times, it’s just the sex.

Viktor was in his bathroom, checking his hips and neck for bruises and bite marks. He saw a few, and quickly covered it up with concealer, and then sealed the covered area with hairspray to make sure it lasted. There are some that were pale and yellowed around his hips, small enough to be the size of fingertips, and not too noticeable to be an issue. And although he tried to avoid getting bitten on the neck, by bending or tilting his head a certain way, he still had purpling marks that were too obvious not to attend to.

He had about thirty more minutes before he was due to call a cab, which meant that he didn’t have the time for dinner anymore.

Maybe he could talk his client into getting them some room service. He was pretty good at that.

A blue, striped suit that night. Worn twice. It was enough. He brought out his nice Oxfords, given to him as a gift about two months ago, and only opened two weeks before that night.

Tonight’s client liked older men, so he tried to make sure that he didn’t have too much make up, sleeked his hair, and chose an appropriate pocket square. Apparently, she had fantasies of some huge business tycoon fucking her into oblivion, so Viktor dressed up for just that.

His phone _pinged_ just before he was about to walk out the door. And when he read the text, his heart almost dropped.

_Phichit’s practicing tonight. Want to grab dinner?_

Oh, no.

Viktor sighed.

There was no way he could just cancel a booking twenty minutes before the meeting time. That would be rude, even for Viktor.

Feeling absolutely crest-fallen, he replied with, _I’m sorry, Yuuri. I have work_ _tonight._ When he noticed that his text looked a tad bit strange, especially coming from an interior designer who probably worked at daytime, he quickly added, _It’s due tomorrow._

He was going to have to tell Yuuri eventually— _if_ it worked out. But how soon? Viktor knew he didn’t have to tell every person he went out on dates with what he does for a living, but when should be the proper time? When will it become too late?

The phone _pinged_ again, and it was Yuuri, who replied, _That’s okay. Next time?_

Well, at least there was a promise for a next time.

-

On Saturday, Viktor drove to Yuuri’s apartment again to pick him up.

Yuuri felt bad that he didn’t have a car, said that it was embarrassing because he was the one who said he’s take care of the second date. When Viktor asked him why he thought that should be necessary, Yuuri couldn’t even explain it properly.

Viktor thought that was ridiculous.

It didn’t matter that Viktor was the one driving, or that Yuuri wasn’t taking him anywhere fancy, or that the both of them were currently in beat-up sneakers and plain shirts. He knew that Yuuri must be busy with other things like homework and skating and working at night, but still spared some time for Viktor anyway, and that was enough.

“Where are we going, dear sir?” Viktor asked, starting his engine.

“May I?” Yuuri gestured at the phone mounted on Viktor’s dashboard, and keyed in navigation information once he agreed.

“I’ve never been there before,” Viktor said, scrutinizing the location. “What are we going to do?”

And once again, that usual shy smile made a reappearance. “You’ll see.”

Viktor somehow decided that Yuuri in his natural loveliness is what he liked the most. The messy hair, glasses, and colourful scarves all add up to who he was, and Viktor was eager to know more.

As he drove, he began to strike up a conversation, mostly just asking about Yuuri’s job and what he did in class. In return, Yuuri told him about mean professors and his incapability to turn in a paper without losing at least a day of sleep. Yuuri was more fond of tea as he was of coffee, loved _Star Wars_ , and had recently been emotionally scarred by a game called _Life is Strange_.

“The last game I ever played was _Bomber Man II_ ,” Viktor admitted, looking over at Yuuri as they stopped for a red light.

Yuuri looked at him incredulously. “How old are you again?”

“Twenty-two,” Viktor answered instantaneously. Which he regretted almost as fast.

“Really?”

Well?

“Twenty-five, actually,” Viktor said, having cleared his mind. He tried to make it sound more casual, and added, “Why? Do I look that old?”

It was hard breaking away from old habits. He had to tell himself, repeatedly, that this wasn’t a date where he was Anatoly. He was Viktor.

Yuuri frowned. “Twenty-five’s not old,” he said. “And no, I just thought that since you mentioned you were older than Chris, you wouldn’t be twenty-two.”

“Isn’t that right?” Viktor chuckled. “Besides, can you imagine us being friends and he was the older one? We would have gotten into more trouble than we already had.”

Eventually, they began to talk about more casual things; the weather, their time in Michigan, what is was like to hunt for apartments in the summer. That did not mean Viktor didn’t enjoy every single one of them. Each topic was an opportunity to get to know each other, was a way for him to tell someone stories that Chris already knew.

Viktor never realised how much he missed meeting new people up until then, how nice it would be to make new impressions, how finding common ground and listening to someone else made for a nice way to go about his day.

Maybe he’ll contact Barb and tell her about it soon. And maybe, she’ll tell him, _I told you so_.

“We’re here,” Yuuri said, once they drove by a building close to where the navigation app was leading them to. “We can park over there, I think.”

Viktor did as he was told, without so much as questioning it.

Again, Yuuri could have brought him to an abandoned shack and he wouldn’t have disagreed. He would ask, but he wouldn’t say no.

Once he’s had a closer look, Viktor quickly recognised where they were. “Is this an ice rink?”

Yuuri looked a little nervous, and took a few moments before he spoke to Viktor again. “You don’t like it? We can go somewhere else.”

“No, I love it. I just never been to one before. I’ve seen Chris practicing and stuff, but I basically don’t know anything else,” he confessed. “Care to help me?”

“Yeah?” Yuuri perked up. “You said you’ve never skated before, so I thought I’d teach you. I’m not the best, but you could try—”

“Of course, I’ll try it!” Viktor said, almost too eagerly.

Chris has been hounding him about it for years now. Bothered him on and on about _c_ _ome_ _on Viktor, all you have to do is put on a pair of rental skates,_ _not fall on your face,_ _and glide in circles. I’m sure you’ll be wonderful at it._

Which did make him want to try. He just didn’t have the time to.

Yuuri let Viktor lace their fingers together as he led them to the entrance, where the front desk was. He asked Viktor about his size, and when Viktor wasn’t too sure, he pulled him to sit on one of the benches and had Viktor put his foot on a weird contraption.

“It’s called a Brannock Device,” Yuuri said, making adjustments to the said contraption. “I can see you wondering what it is.”

“Does my face give me away that easily?”

“Like an open book,” Yuuri stood and went back to the front desk, only to return with two pairs of skates. “Let’s put these on.”

By some sort of miracle, Viktor did manage to get them on and lace them up before Yuuri. He would soon realise that this was because he hadn’t laced them tight enough, and Yuuri had to redo it for him. Apparently, if the skates are in any way not a perfect fit, they would become very, very painful to skate in.

And oh, they hadn’t even gotten to the fun part yet—where Viktor had to close the distance between where he sat and the edge of the ice. A nightmare, in all that it was, but he managed to pull through by sheer force of will.

 _Deux ex machina_.

“Ready?” Yuuri was still holding Viktor, his grip firm and constant. And unlike Viktor, he was graceful on his feet, his posture perfect and his shoulders relaxed. “Just keep your balance once you’re on the surface, okay? And then we’ll try skating around the rink for a bit.”

There were a few people already twirling around (and showing off) and Viktor saw kids who were way better than he was (little shits). But still, it was a public rink and Viktor was an absolute noob, so he really didn’t want to bump into someone and somehow end up stabbing them with his skates.

“Hey,” Yuuri’s hand went to Viktor’s lower back, steadying him. “Is that alright? Are we ready to move forward?”

He was, and he did.

Granted, Viktor looked as graceful as a waddling penguin, but it was the most fun he’s had in a long time. Maybe he had a routine that ran his life for so long he didn’t even get to experience new things any more. Chris gave him several opportunities to do it, but he’s never done anything about them.

And it felt _so_ good, trying something new.

Maybe it was the rush of adrenaline talking, maybe it was the bumps on the ice that had him grab hold of Yuuri even tighter, but new experiences liked these; they’re certainly the kind of memories he’d look back on.

He had thought that once he and Chris started building their careers separately, started to save up for their own futures, that neither of them were ever going to break away from their chosen paths.

But maybe it was because Yuuri was young, or had the disposition of young excitable passion. It was contagious and uplifting, and Viktor would want them both to do something like this again.

And again.

And again.

“There you go!” Yuuri laughed. “You’re doing so well! Do you want to skate on your own?”

“Oh, no,” Viktor’s eyes widened, genuinely worried. “I’m going to fall on my face. No.”

“Come on!” Yuuri teasingly loosened his grip.

To which, Viktor reacted by clinging to him even tighter. “Nope.”

“You’ll never know until you try.”

“Nah. I’m good. I’m good, I’m good, I’m good.”

“Hey, Viktor.”

“What?”

“Someone’s looking at you.”

When Viktor fumbled even just for a second, Yuuri took the opportunity instantly.

He stepped back. Or glided back. Whatever the hell you do in ice skating. Yuuri was about a few feet away from Viktor, leaving him without anyone to support him.

Viktor wanted to whine more, beg him to come back, but Yuuri—Yuuri was a _graceful_.

He was backing away, but smoothly, efficiently avoiding other people by turning slightly here and backing up a bit there. It was like he knew his body so well at this point that he knew how to move it, to control it, to make it do what he wanted it to do.

Anyone—including Viktor—would be an idiot to stop Yuuri from doing that.

Viktor would gladly fall on his face if it meant he’d be able to see the musicality in which Yuuri moved. He imagined how great it would be to witness Yuuri dance on the ice for him, but that would be another fantasy for another time.

“Can you do a jump for me, _Zolotse_?”

Because that’s about what Viktor knew of the technical stuff.

Yuuri looked rather hesitant. “I can’t do it here...”

“Yes, you can,” Viktor said. “Come on, for me?”

“Fine,” Yuuri said. “But nothing too complicated. I don’t want to get in trouble.”

Viktor moved back to lean against the boards, just in case gravity decided he was going to have a bad day, all the while as he watched Yuuri begin to circle around the ice. He could tell that Yuuri was testing his footing, sizing up the expanse of the rink, and did so for a couple of times.

Yuuri moved like water, elegant and beautiful, prepared himself for the jump—and launched himself into the air.

It was quick, the spins were tight, and goddammit Viktor couldn’t tell if it was any good or not. But he sure was impressed to a point that his knees would have given out if he weren’t smart enough to do precautions much earlier (hence, leaning against the boards).

Several other people who were at the rink were clapping and whistling, and in the truest Yuuri fashion, he ducked his head in embarrassment.

Before long, he was skating toward Viktor, gracious as ever. He looked pink and excited, like he had done something daring in his life for once, and Viktor was more than happy to reward him a kiss.

“That was amazing, Yuuri!” Viktor grinned. “How do you do that and not fall on your face?”

Yuuri laughed. “Oh, I’ve fallen on my face plenty of times, alright. It’s what I got for practicing. Now, let’s see about you...”

-

Viktor did manage to skate on his own after that.

He couldn’t help but feel an enormous amount of pride when Yuuri said something along the lines of ‘ _you’re a natural_ ’ and ‘ _I can’t believe you didn’t go to figure skating lessons with Chris_ ’. Yuuri was so impressed with him at that point that he vowed to make their ice skating dates a regular thing, which sent chills down Viktor’s spine.

As promised, Yuuri brought him to somewhere that wasn’t too fancy.(Although Viktor really didn’t understand why Yuuri thought he needed a heads-up, he would have gone anyway.)

There were no waiters, no menus, no hundred-dollar glasses of wine. Instead, they lined up to order, as would anyone in any food place, and found a table for themselves.

They were lucky to have found one near the windows, where they could look out into the night, watching teenagers joke around and were probably going out to smoke weed or something.

“You really like those mozzarella sticks, don’t you?” Viktor asked, pointing at Yuuri’s tray, which the other had protected with his life when Viktor attempted to snag a piece.

“Only second to katsudon,” Yuuri said. “I would have taken you somewhere that made them, but Japanese restaurants in America are...how do I say this?”

“Absolute crap?” Viktor supplied helpfully. “Like all other ‘international’ restaurants?”

“The Korean Barbecue places are amazing, though.”

“And overpriced,” Viktor snorted. “Do you know they hardly sell anything Russian _anywhere_? It’s like we’re too closed off to share recipes or something. Maybe people don’t even know Russia exists.”

“Maybe you just have weird food.”

“Excuse me?”

“You can always cook them, you know that, right?” Yuuri said. “I’m guessing your fridge is full enough to make something out of it?”

Viktor didn’t know why he found that to be funny. Oh, well.

He did laugh, by the way.

“Oh, trust me,” he said. “If there’s one thing Phichit and I have in common, it’s that I can’t cook for shit. My coffeemaker and microwave are the constant stars of my kitchen.”

Yuuri glared at him, almost envious. “Oh, dear. Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys who survives on frozen pizza and not balloon into a few hundred pounds.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Yuuri groaned. “How can you eat all that stuff and still look like _that_?”

Viktor’s eyes turned to slits, almost immediately, catching on before Yuuri could realise his mistake. “Really? What do I look like, Yuuri?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Oh, I think you do,” Viktor teased. “You said it the first time.”

Yuuri would then become a blubbering mess of squeaking after that. And somehow, somewhere in the middle of it all, Viktor wondered why he hadn’t thought about a date like this.

Make no mistake, he didn’t mind splurging a little on that first one, but this?

Where he could freely talk to Yuuri without worrying about being too formal? Without having Yuuri constantly looking at the menu and trying to discern Viktor’s reaction? It was a safe space where they found common ground, where they were both comfortable enough not to be distracted by anything else. It was simple, and sweet, and honestly something he would do over and over again.

Once twilight had come, they were both walking down the parking lot. Yuuri’s hand was still in his, their fingers laced together, but with less hesitation than before.

They talked about everything and nothing at the same time, laughed even if something wasn’t as funny, and made jokes about almost anything they came across.

“So you went to high school in San Diego?” Yuuri asked. “Why move to Michigan?”

“I needed someplace cold, I guess,” Viktor said. “My Russian senses were tingling.”

Yuuri chuckled, leaning to his side as he did, and pressed his face against Viktor’s shoulder blade. Viktor felt suddenly warm then, all his attention to that one point of contact between him and Yuuri, even through layers and layers of clothing.

His chest thrummed like no other, like it was a whole new experience for him—and maybe, to some degree, it was.

Viktor led them to his car, opening the door for Yuuri, and revelled in the other’s reaction. But as they sat there, though, Viktor couldn’t find it himself to start the engine.

Not yet, any way.

Not when they were in the middle of a perfectly good evening together. He dared to put his hand on Yuuri’s knee, careful to pay attention to any sign that Yuuri might not want the contact, but it didn’t come.

And Viktor went in for a kiss, because that was the only thing he could think about. It was all he could think about the whole day.

They kissed slowly, almost hesitantly, trying to test the waters before they pushed anywhere further.

He longed for nothing but _more_ of Yuuri, to get closer to him as much as he could, and take what Yuuri was willing to give him. Viktor’s hand on Yuuri’s knee slid upwards, closer to his thigh, and Yuuri gasped. In retaliation, Yuuri took his lower lip and sucked at it gently, nipping at it, his lips expertly trailing down Viktor’s neck then back up to his ear.

Viktor was not about to be beaten out in such a thing like this. He kept pushing, and pushed the boundaries he did. Their kisses became harder, deeper, dirtier. He licked and kissed and sucked each and every newly-revealed part of Yuuri, hands touching him where they could. And when he couldn’t get enough, he reclined the car seat, and coaxed Yuuri unto his lap.

Yuuri’s hands have become more bold, have found themselves buried in Viktor’s hair, his fingers running through them with vigour. Viktor himself was on the verge of throwing Yuuri in the backseat to ravish him right then and there.

Because why the fuck not?

“Yuuri,” Viktor whispered, almost like a plea. He was beginning to feel his pants growing too tight, too uncomfortable, and he was going to ruin them if they didn’t stop. “Do—Do you?”

“I don’t want to end the night yet,” Yuuri said, his breathing laboured, flustered, but not as shy as he was before.

“Are you sure?” Viktor said. “Yuuri, I can’t think clearly—”

When Viktor even began to question himself, Yuuri shifted a little to grind their hips together, which punched out a resounding moan from the depths of Viktor’s chest _._

“I don’t like it when you try to be careful around me,” Yuuri groaned. “You don’t have to do that. I can take it.”

 _Jesus Motherfucking_ _Christ_.

Viktor was pretty sure he still hadn’t gone over the shock, but if he didn’t act now, he was going to have to go through even more torturous waiting.

“Put the directions in,” Viktor pulled back, almost unceremoniously shoving Yuuri back unto the passenger seat, and started the car. He fumbled with his phone, and mounted it on the dashboard.

Yuuri hesitated, just a moment, and then, “Phichit’s home.”

On the steering wheel, Viktor’s hands stilled. “Oh.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Yuuri said, correcting him quickly, hand firmly pressed to Viktor’s thigh—which was not helping, at all. “I was thinking, maybe—maybe we could go somewhere else.”

_Oh._

Throughout the years, Viktor’s developed three personal rules:

One, was that he never spoke about his work to people he barely knew. The second one, was that he shouldn’t be bringing hot dates into his apartment. The third, was that he vowed to never act so rashly.

For years and years and years, he’s never broken any of those rules. It even came to a point where he gave up on certain things in order to follow them, and that had proven to work out for him very well.

But Yuuri was lovely, and Viktor was hard beyond belief.

To hell with those rules, then.

He started the car, and began to drive back home.

-

They were both silent the whole way to Viktor’s apartment.

As time went on, they both seemed to have wound down from their earlier frenzy, maintaining their pace as they walked to the building and stepped inside the elevators.

More importantly, Viktor was nervous.

Nothing too stressful that might send him into panic, but he was thinking an awful lot more than usual. Viktor almost had no problems with intimacy, almost had no limits to what he was willing to do for another person, so why was he feeling so anxious about it?

The calmness seemed to have slowly gone back down to an incredibly uneasy sexual tension, with Viktor not knowing what to do next once Yuuri stepped inside his apartment.

So he did what he thought was the best, by asking, “Would you want some wine?”

And when Yuuri nodded silently, Viktor quickly went to his wine cooler and picked out something obnoxiously expensive, because what was the point of having it there if not to share it with someone else?

He didn’t have too many wine glasses, or much of anything, but Chris was there often enough that he’d have two of each. Thank god Viktor actually had a friend who visited him, otherwise he was going to have to explain giving Yuuri wine in a hand-painted mug.

Although, Yuuri was the kind of person who wouldn’t have minded, Viktor thought.

But still, better that he was prepared for it.

From where he stood in the kitchen, he could see Yuuri admiring the view out the windows, though his expression turned away from Viktor. He was looking out, head turning as cars went by, inclining to the dark skies. Did he like it? Was he intimidated? Had Viktor scared him off again?

Viktor had to know. He needed to, if he wanted the both of them to be comfortable. There would be no reason to take anything further if any of them were unsure or anxious or worried.

“Hey, you,” Viktor crept up beside Yuuri and handed him a glass, to which Yuuri accepted gratefully. He looked even lovelier dishevelled, with his hair and kiss-swollen lips and all.

Yuuri gestured with his hand, something akin to astonishment. “You have a wonderful place.”

“Thank you.”

“No, I mean _wonderful_ , Viktor,” Yuuri said. “I almost don’t want to sit on your suede couch.”

Oh, wow.

Viktor laughed before planting a kiss on Yuuri’s lips. Leave it to Yuuri to make things a little better, a little less tense. Dear god, Viktor wanted to keep him.

“I did save up for that one for quite some time, so thank you. But it’s not just there for display. That wouldn’t make sense, would it?” he smiled. “Come here, sit with me.”

He pulled Yuuri with him to the said couch, as a way for him to say ‘ _it’s alright_ ’.

Viktor thought it was ridiculous for someone else to say that—Chris definitely hadn’t thought twice before putting his dirty feet on the thing—but this was sweet Yuuri, and his hesitation was one of the things that made him interesting.

“Do you like it?” Viktor raised his glass a little, referring to the wine.

Yuuri took another sip, thought about it, and said, “It’s really sweet,” he said. “Though I could never really tell the difference with wines. There’s just the sweet stuff and the not-so-sweet stuff. Some more alcoholic than others, maybe?”

That alone had Viktor smiling.

He felt less nervous now, more inclined to make conversation than he was before. Yuuri seemed to have grown a little more comfortable than he did the first time he walked in. It was good for them both, the air now free of the tension, replaced by something much like their friendly exchanges much earlier.

“I really can’t tell the difference either,” Viktor confessed. “Feels good to try something celebrities might be tasting though?”

“I always thought they just eat salads all day.”

Viktor chuckled. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, you know, I watch interviews and you have all these people with diet plans and stuff,” Yuuri said. “Do you know that some actors are asked to lose or gain weight depending on their role in a movie? That’s crazy.”

“Well, if it’s their job, I wouldn’t say it’s that bad,” Viktor shrugged. “Imagine not eating for two months and get millions in return.”

“If they aren’t happy about it, I don’t think it’d be as fun,” Yuuri said. “But maybe I haven’t come to a point where I had to make those kinds of decisions, so...”

“You think you haven’t come to the crossroads yet.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Yuuri shrugged. “I mean, the first big decision I made for myself was to move here, of course, but now I don’t know what to do next...sorry, I must be boring you—”

“You never do.”

True. And that was an honest thing to say.

Viktor found himself leaning in, almost on instinct, and pressed his lips against Yuuri’s.

He tasted sweeter, warmer, calmer than before.

As Viktor leaned further, he set his wine glass on the coffee table, plucked the other one out of Yuuri’s hand, and placed it beside his. Yuuri slowly welcomed him back in, gradually opening his mouth for Viktor’s tongue to explore, going slower than he did when they were in the car.

“Has anyone ever told you,” Viktor whispered in between kisses. “That you’re such a good kisser?”

“Never,” Yuuri said. “But you are.”

And it was true that Yuuri was an excellent kisser.

Viktor hadn’t meant to say it just to boost his confidence. Yuuri apparently had a very talented tongue, and to Viktor’s dismay, it was messing his mind up in all sorts of ways. Imagining that tongue on other parts of him, perhaps exploring places it’s never been before, had Viktor’s pants tightening yet again.

Where was Yuuri all this time? Surely, Viktor could have seen him at least once before?

“Yuuri,” Viktor was snapped out of his reverie when Yuuri reached for the inside of his thigh. “Bedroom?”

He was responded with an eager nod, and a quick, breathless, “Uh-huh.”

Viktor took no time to think. He stood up and pulled Yuuri along with him, walking him toward the door while he mouthed the back of Yuuri’s neck, pressed up against each other so firmly it had become hard to walk.

Once they were inside, Viktor kicked the door closed. Yuuri allowed Viktor to lead him to the bed, while Viktor’s hands were unclasping Yuuri’s pants. Those same hands found their way underneath Yuuri’s shirt, caught the hem and pulled it over his head. Without giving Viktor the time to appreciate the newly discovered territory, Yuuri turned around and did the same, desperate to get Viktor out of his clothes as well.

They kicked off their shoes, their socks, and their jeans. Finally, once they were down to their underwear, Viktor used all the strength he had to pin Yuuri to the bed, allowing himself time to appreciate the view.

Yuuri’s skin was smooth, impossibly hairless, and his body beautiful. He had wonderful curves, a little pudgy on the stomach, and Viktor was beginning to drool. And the highlight of it all, were Yuuri’s thighs.

Don’t even get him started on Yuuri’s thighs.

“Something wrong?”

He looked up at Yuuri then, who was already flushed red. There was a tell-tale crinkle on his forehead that reflected some type of insecurity, although Viktor really didn’t know what for.

Yuuri was _perfect_ , and no one should think otherwise.

“You have a bruise on your knee,” Viktor said, gently running his thumb over it.

“I fell after attempting a jump yesterday,” Yuuri said, like it wasn’t something out of the ordinary. “Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“No,” Viktor said. “I was just worried about you, I guess.”

“Don’t be,” Yuuri smiled. “All skaters tend to have bruises all the time.”

“Well,” Viktor scooted a little, enough that his lips were right above the purpling bruise, and kissed it. “I hope I can make it better.”

Viktor started kissing him from there, lips trailing up to Yuuri’s thigh, his navel, to the middle of his chest, and then right around his nipple—but not quite. Yuuri shivered from the contact, his breathing suddenly hitching, but Viktor only took this as an opportunity to tease, to make it known where his mouth _wasn’t_.

He went back up to kiss Yuuri on the lips again, messier now, with their teeth clacking and their spit spilling into each other’s mouths. Carefully, to plucked Yuuri’s glasses off of his nose and set them on the table, just to make sure.

Viktor reached down, between them, hooking his finger over the waistband of Yuuri’s boxers. He pulled back just a little, enough to look at Yuuri in the eye, and asked, “Is this okay?”

A nod. Then, “Yes.”

Once Viktor had removed the last of Yuuri’s clothes, Yuuri practically demanded that he did the same, and Viktor did. Skin to skin, without anything between them, Viktor felt like his whole being was being set on fire. The both of them were so hard, so impossibly impatient, _god help him_.

Viktor was in between Yuuri’s legs, their cocks sliding up against each other, the adrenaline astounding. With half a mind, Viktor pulled away, for one crucial second.

“You have to tell me,” Viktor whispered. “You have to tell me how far we’re going before I won’t be able to think clearly.”

Yuuri didn’t say a word.

Instead, he caught Viktor’s wrists and flipped them over, almost knocking the wind out of Viktor’s chest. Yuuri straddled him, perfect thighs on each side of his hips, and bent over to mouth at the side of his neck, his clavicle, his chest. As they kissed, Yuuri teasingly rubbed his ass against Viktor’s cock, wordlessly communicating his response.

Viktor nodded, arm reaching out to get his pants—

And he stopped.

_Why. In a time like this, too._

Yuuri noticed the sudden hesitation, and asked, “What?”

Great.

“Oh, wow. This is—this is so embarrassing,” Viktor huffed. He didn’t know if he should be laughing or get frustrated or both. “I don’t have—I don’t have supplies.”

Would it be weird if Viktor stood up and went to his cabinet? Where he hid some of his ‘specialized props’ for clients who requested it? No? Viktor looked over to the said cabinet, and he could see it from where they were. Would Yuuri be able to see without his glasses?

He noticed that Yuuri had gone quiet, still blinking up at him.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had anyone up here,” Viktor said, truthfully.

As the confusion receded, the expression on Yuuri’s eyes softened, as if his worries dissipated in that moment. There was something so inexplicably gentle about the look on Yuuri’s face, it was doing things to Viktor regardless.

He kissed Yuuri then, chuckling when Yuuri teased him a little. They were taking things so slowly, almost lazily, that it somehow made sex new to Viktor. He couldn’t pinpoint how that came to be, but he’ll think about it later.

“Let me try again?” He tapped Yuuri’s hip, gesturing him to unmount and lie on his back.

When he did, Viktor slid down, situating himself between Yuuri’s legs. Slowly, he planted kisses on Yuuri’s inner thigh, gently nipped at some places in between kisses, and laved the abused skin every after bite. Yuuri’s breathing had become faster again, and when Viktor dared to look up, he swore he could see the anticipation in Yuuri’s eyes.

And he _will_ try again, goddammit.

With his eyes still on Yuuri, he blew hot breath against Yuuri’s cock, earning him a pleased gasp. Viktor nuzzled Yuuri’s balls, inhaling deeply, finding the strong musky scent almost pleasingly intoxicating. He flicked out his tongue, licked a long line from the base of Yuuri’s cock to the tip. From there, he used his tongue to pull the foreskin back and sucked the head with much more enthusiasm than before.

Yuuri’s hips suddenly lifted off the bed, moaning. His hands were clawing at the sheets, fingernails scratching the velvet duvet. His moans were different from the shy bartender Viktor had come to know.

It was surprising, something no one would have expected, and almost too sinful.

Using his hands, Viktor pulled back Yuuri’s foreskin and began to bob his head, his pace steady, slowly taking more and more of Yuuri as he went on. Once he found his rhythm, there was no stopping him. Yuuri was a whimpering mess, one of his hands grasping at the headboard to ground himself, eyes so terribly dazed and blissed out.

Viktor pulled off, spit dripping out of his lips, his hand stroking Yuuri in place of his mouth.

“You can pull my hair,” Viktor said. “If you want to.”

Yuuri’s fingers immediately buried themselves in Viktor’s hair, his grip still loose and hesitant. Viktor was going to have to change that, was he?

He returned to Yuuri’s cock again, basically showing off all the wonderful things his tongue could do—hallowing his cheeks at the right moment, using his hand when he felt his jaws start to hurt, bobbing his head faster and faster when Yuuri least expected.

If there’s anything that he’d best anyone at, it would be at giving head, and Viktor knew it.

“Oh my god,” Yuuri huffed, breathing laboured.

Viktor had to agree.

That was basically the only thing on his mind. It was almost impossible to think much of anything else at that point.

But he can do better.

He slackened his jaw, focused on taking all of him, and took Yuuri to the back of his throat. Yuuri hadn’t expected that at all, and instinctively snapped his hips, making Viktor gag. As Yuuri sputtered apologies, Viktor hummed in acknowledgement, knowing fully well that the vibrations would send extra waves of pleasure.

Yuuri’s fingers returned to his hair, pulling at them vigorously, holding on to what control he had left.

From that position, Viktor could practically see every little twitch, every little reaction, every rise and fall of Yuuri’s chest. It was one thing to hear it, to know that something came of his efforts to please a lover, but it was another to _see_ it.

His own erection was starting to become all too distracting, and Viktor had to reach down and stroke himself, desperate for relief. Viktor could feel the sweat forming on his back, his legs slowly starting to give, he was feeling and doing so much at once it was beginning to impair him in more ways than one.

“Viktor...”

Viktor took Yuuri deep once more, enough that it hit the back of his throat again. Enough that he needed to close his eyes.

“Viktor, hey—” Yuuri’s grip on his hair suddenly tightened, and then Viktor felt a sudden tug. “Viktor, come here.”

There was no way Viktor understood what he was agreeing to, but he did get up. Yuuri pulled him up so they could kiss again, their breaths intermingling, so close together that Viktor could feel Yuuri’s heart pound against his chest.

Yuuri lifted his hips, and the motion allowed for their cocks to slide against each other, slick from Viktor’s spit and precome. When he slowly understood what Yuuri had been trying to do, Viktor reached between them and began to stroke, feeling his vision starting to blur.

All he could taste was Yuuri. All he could smell was Yuuri’s skin. All he could see was Yuuri’s black hair.

“I’m gonna—I’m gonna come,” Viktor warned, feeling as if his throat was constricting from the sheer effort it took him to get those words out.

Yuuri encouraged him by thrusting into Viktor’s hand, adding to the friction, kissing him hard and biting him _harder_.

It took no more than a few moments before Viktor was hearing white noise, as if all the sensations that were being condensed into a ball of energy combusted, as he spilled over his hand. He continued to stroke, following the rhythm set by Yuuri’s hips, and felt Yuuri’s release a few moments later.

They struggled to catch their breaths, Viktor only propped up by his arms to avoid crushing Yuuri completely, his forehead balanced on top of the other’s. They were heaving and sweating, probably didn’t look as pretty as before, but to hell with that.

“You’re amazing,” Viktor said, kissing Yuuri languidly, dropping a few fleeting ones on his cheeks. “Has anyone ever told you?”

“No,” Yuuri replied. “But you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not the best at smut, okay?
> 
> Also, Viktor Nikiforov, the Living Legend of Blowjobs.
> 
> For updates/teasers/questions HMU on tumblr [@anna-domini](https://anna-domini.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Tell me what you think!


	3. Let It Happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor has inexplicable feelings, but he could think about that later, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got fucking extended again because my hand slipped and oh no there's more shit cominggggggggg...

Viktor hated mornings, much like any other sane person would. It was that disorientation, of wondering where the hell he was, that he didn’t like all.

He was home, thank goodness, so it meant that he wasn’t Anatoly. He’s woken up in so many unknown places at this point that it was basically standard procedure to discern whether he was with a client or not every time he woke up. Viktor didn’t manage to maintain a thick wall between his career and his personal life this long without being utterly careful about almost everything he did.

Except that something was different this time.

His bedroom door was slightly ajar, his sheets smelled of someone else, and he could smell something cooking coming from outside the room. And yet, there was no sign of panic in the way the he reacted. He smiled, rather stupidly, to himself.

Of course, he wasn’t an idiot to forget about what had happened last night. In fact, it was all he could think about as soon as the haze of sleep left him. By the time he was fully up, he’d pulled on some track pants and a loose shirt, his fingers desperately combing through his hair to make it look a little more presentable.

(He wouldn’t normally care about what he looked in the mornings, but since he’s doing something different this time, he might as well change his routine.)

He stepped out of the room to be met by the smell of bacon. He couldn’t help but feel a little too excited about that—which was silly, wasn’t it? But he didn’t care. Sure, you wouldn’t have to do more than to fry the damn thing, but finding out that Yuuri was comfortable enough to poke around in his kitchen was yet again making him feel a lot of things.

Inexplicable things.

And again, Viktor was going to have to think about those inexplicable feelings later, but at the moment, he had a plan.

He’d creep up to an unsuspecting Yuuri and scare him, probably grab hold of that fine ass while he’s at it. Viktor was being oddly playful that morning, something so uncharacteristic of him before nine o’clock, but maybe it’s because he was just having the time of his life. Or it was the orgasm he got last night. Or he was just in a strange mood that day. Which ever way, though, he felt content.

Discovering that the door to the kitchen was open, Viktor slowly inched closer, making no noise—

And went completely still.

Shit.

Yuuri hadn’t noticed him yet, but that’s only because Viktor hadn’t moved a muscle since seeing him. He was dressed in Viktor’s shirt, which was all too big on him that it made it look like he wasn’t wearing much else. If he did, Viktor wouldn’t even know unless he came up to Yuuri to find out. But how was he supposed to do that when he just short-circuited midway through his plan to surprise him?

When his brain did manage to work again, Viktor _somehow_ accidentally knocked over a miniature porcelain statue of a poodle by the kitchen counter, giving away his presence in the room. He managed to catch it before it fell and shattered to the floor, but not before Yuuri reacted to the noise.

“Oh, hi!” Yuuri said, looking a little surprised. “I hope you don’t mind me making something, since you—uh, last night you said I can mess around with some bacon and eggs.”

“Please, uh, I don’t really mind,” Viktor sputtered. He stepped a little closer, and when Yuuri was within reach, he wound his arms around Yuuri’s waist. “Early bird, huh?”

Yuuri chuckled. “School starts at about eight for me, so I wake up at around six to seven, usually.”

“But don’t you come home late from work?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri said, moving some of the cooked bacon to a plate. “That’s why I mostly do homework during the day. I try to work on them as early as possible, and if I can’t, I’ll work through lunch.”

“That’s gotta be hard,” Viktor frowned.

“It’s okay,” Yuuri said, leaning his head against Viktor’s shoulder as he waited for the current batch of bacon to cook. “You haven’t gone to university?”

“Is that a turn-off?”

“Not really.”

“Well, I didn’t go,” Viktor said. “I found out I could work and earn money without all the student loans anyway. I couldn’t afford getting in debt. It was a gamble, so you could say I’m really lucky it worked out.”

“I have an Asian family, so...” Yuuri sighed, his attention drawn to the bacon once more. “They offered to pay for it. When I insisted I’ll do it on my own, I ended up getting yelled at. So I lied about the actual yearly tuition instead.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Viktor spoke against Yuuri’s bare shoulder, revelling in the closeness. “How much are they paying for?”

“About more than half? I don’t make much from working the night shift, so I can’t pay for more,” Yuuri said. “Everything else goes to my allowance.”

“You’re amazing, Yuuri.”

“Not as amazing as you are,” Yuuri tilted his chin and kissed Viktor on the cheek. “Now go, I have to make some more of these.”

Viktor left Yuuri alone for some time.

He _did_ offer to help, but Yuuri insisted he did all the cooking himself. And maybe Yuuri could have been finished making breakfast a lot faster if Viktor weren’t clinging to him like giant a hug monster. So instead, Viktor made coffee, and when that was done, he walked out into the living room to watch whatever was on the T.V. He usually wasn’t up that early, so at least he was discovering some things that he normally wouldn’t see airing.

“Hey,” Yuuri tapped the door to the kitchen. “Where should I put the plates?”

Eager to help, Viktor stood up to retrieve the plates himself and set the table. He conveniently had his dinner table close to the living room so he could watch the TV while he ate, but now Viktor felt like he shouldn’t have done that. How was Yuuri supposed to focus on him when something else was distracting the both of them?

“Are you sure it’s okay that I raided your kitchen without asking you first? I should have waited for you to wake up,” Yuuri said, pulling the seat at the corner of the table.

Viktor didn’t even know why he had a dinner table that seated eight people.

“You did ask me, though.”

“Yeah, but you were falling asleep,” Yuuri flushed. “I wasn’t sure you heard it.”

“It’s alright,” Viktor winked, which in turn earned him a pretty flush, now visible all the way down to Yuuri’s collarbone. “But why would you think I’d mind?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m not used to—” he gestured wildly, his blush deepening. “I’m not used to staying too long in the mornings for...breakfast.”

Viktor felt that his heart somehow became light, thrumming with both accomplishment and anticipation. Or maybe he was going crazy and was jumping into conclusions again.

“Does that make me special, Yuuri Katsuki?”

Yuuri squawked, but then, “Maybe.”

That was good enough for Viktor. Maybe if everything else went well, that answer could change. Maybe it’ll be more certain than a ‘ _maybe_ ’.

Maybe it’ll change to a ‘ _yes_ ’ or a ‘ _definitely_ ’ because why the fuck not?

Because again, a man can dream.

Midway through their lively breakfast conversation (which, to be honest, might have been the liveliest one Viktor’s had in a while), they were startled to hear Viktor’s phone ringing. The sound was coming from the coffee table behind him, and it was very, very, loud.

Excusing himself from Yuuri, he picked up the call without thinking too much of it, eager to get back to Yuuri and their breakfast.

“Hello?”

“ _Hi, is this Anatoly Petrishchev?_ ”

Viktor went very still for a moment, his heart thumping too fast.

“Hold on a second.”

He looked over to Yuuri and gestured toward the bedroom, and Yuuri nodded with a smile.

Instinct somehow made him walk faster, like something terrible was going to happen if he didn’t make it in time. The knob was almost cold to the touch as he turned it, or his hand had been, and felt relief swell inside him as he pushed the door to his bedroom open.

“Hello, I’m sorry about that,” Viktor began to gather his bearings, walking around inside the safety of his room and made sure to keep his voice low enough so Yuuri couldn’t hear him. He went to his laptop on the desk and opened his calendar app, and continued with, “And yes, this is me. How may I help you?”

The man from the other line paused for a moment, and then, “ _How long is the minimum notice for a single booking?_ ”

Viktor frowned. _This again_. He checked the caller ID, discovered that he didn’t recognise it, and then, “Six hours, sweetheart.”

“ _Can you make it in_ _two_ _?_ ”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” Viktor said, his voice even and inviting though he’s shooting the idea down. In dealing with newer or insistent clients, it was fairly standard to be nice and welcoming. “Is there a reason why you might want me right away?”

“ _I’ll meet with friends in_ _two hours_ _._ _My plane to Vegas_ _leaves thirty minutes after that,_ ” the man said, almost bored. “ _I’d like you to be there with me the whole time. A pretty arm candy for_ _a few_ _day_ _s_ _, if you will._ ”

Viktor hummed, making his voice sound playful. “I can be convinced, of course. How long would this be?”

“ _Three days, at least,_ ” the man replied, his tone a little more impatient now, as if Viktor was wasting his time by trying to negotiate. “ _I’ll buy you anything you want, my dear._ ”

“And?”

“ _And I’ll_ _tip_ _extra, of course._ ”

Viktor looked out the room and thought about Yuuri, waiting for him to come back. But this was his reality, and he couldn’t just run away from it forever.

Dammit.

He hadn’t been working for two weekends straight, and it was also unwise to turn down a potential long-term client. In the unfortunate event that the said man on the other side of the phone had found him through referrals, it could lead to problems for Viktor’s other potential and recurring clients in the future. Maybe he’ll get used to it one way or another, but right then, he had to decide.

It took everything in him not to sigh.

“Alright,” Viktor said. “Send me your info and address? Maybe your special requests? You know I can’t start packing unless I’m convinced you’re eager, don’t you?”

He could hear the man snort over the phone. “ _Send me your payment details, love. Right now, if you want to start packing._ ”

Slightly annoyed (and a little disheartened), Viktor went back to the dinner table, only to find Yuuri swiping absentmindedly on his phone. He hadn’t touched his food.

Viktor’s stomach dropped. “You waited for me?”

“Hmmm?” Yuuri put his phone down beside his plate. “Oh, yeah. Habit, I guess.”

Frowning wasn’t even an option for Viktor at that point. He was sorting through excuses, the right words, the best way to tell Yuuri that he was going to have to leave in and hour and forty-five minutes. Viktor hated the fact that he had to do that, especially when he just witnessed Yuuri feeling absolutely at home and comfortable in Viktor’s own space.

“Hey,” Viktor said. “I have an emergency business trip in an hour...and I might be gone for three days.”

Yuuri’s eyes widened. “Oh no. Did I keep you from packing? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have stayed too long—”

“No,” Viktor corrected. _Not at all_. “I’m _so_ glad you’re here. I’m so glad you decided to stay, and I would have let you, for as long as you wanted to. I really do feel bad because I won’t get to spend the rest of the day with you.”

Viktor had an hour and forty-two minutes more.

“I’m really glad you’re here, _zolotse_. And if you’ll allow it, I’d like to see you as soon as I’m home.”

A pause.

“What does that mean?” Yuuri asked.

“Which one?”

“The one you just called me,” Yuuri said. “Was it Russian?”

Viktor smiled, his hand finding Yuuri’s, his lips planting a soft kiss on the other’s cheek. He hadn’t even noticed that he began calling him that, but it seemed fitting. “I’ll tell you once I’m back. Promise you’ll see me?”

And there it was, another promise for another time, and Viktor hoped it never stopped coming.

-

Viktor arrived right on the clock, dressed in a simple off-white sweater and jeans, though every single one designer and in-season. He packed just about anything essential one needed on a trip to Vegas—swimming gear, party clothes, travel-sized lube, two boxes of condoms, and his own vow to never get drunk.

Anatoly was something of a role he constantly had to play, like a character from a very scripted reality show, with all the glory of a pretty face and a snotty attitude. There ought to be a forum tag of him somewhere, some of his clients told him they found him that way, but he couldn’t really find them. It might also be because he avoided googling himself whenever possible.

Point was, it was safe to say that he was quite famous amongst people who enjoyed or wanted to enjoy the company of individuals like him, but not everyone knew what he looked like. He didn’t charge more for his services compared to the others, but Viktor was more likely to choose his clients, so it wasn’t rare for people to try to convince him to take them by showering him with gifts and extra tips.

It would make his services seem like a luxury, Paul once told him, and he had agreed. Maybe it wasn’t too bad listening to man who’s built his own business empire from the ground up.

His new client was a man named Richard Lee, who heard about him through forums and escort review sites (again, he didn’t know where to find them), and was surprisingly much younger than his usual clientele. He seemed like the type to play a lot of video games during company time, but no one could do anything about it. Maybe he drank in his office, too, and his poor secretary was the one who’s actually doing all the work. Definitely the kind of guy who sat around and waited for mommy and daddy to pass on the company to him.

Richard was a young millionaire in his late twenties, came from old money, and was a rebellious brat who clearly wasn’t given too much attention in his childhood. To his credit, Richard was indeed handsome, and it would have been unnecessary for him to hire someone like Viktor for an arm candy. But Viktor guessed it was one of those ‘ _rebellious_ ’ things he did, amongst cocaine, strippers, and stealing hundred year old brandy bottles from daddy’s bar.

He was also obnoxiously _loud_ , especially among his friends, and had a knack for showing off every time he had the chance.

“So, how do you like it?” Richard asked, offering Viktor a glass of Champagne.

They were at one of the most expensive places to stay in Vegas. It was more of a beach house in the middle of a desert than it was a hotel, complete with butlers, pools, three bedrooms, and an unnecessarily large jacuzzi. Viktor had asked where Richard’s friends were staying, and was responded with, ‘ _they could afford their own place_ ’.

Which was either annoying or outright infuriating.

But Viktor managed a smile anyway, because he was so good at that. “It’s wonderful,” he admitted. “No wonder you were in such a hurry to leave.”

Richard waved the comment off. “Wait until I become a regular, my dear, and you’ll be flying back and forth to Nevada with me like it’s a block away from home.”

“Seems like you’d be the kind of man who flies ever so often.”

“On occasion, yes,” Richard grinned. “I have to make sure my pilot knows when we’re leaving, though. And it’s a _pain_ to have to buy the things you forget to pack when you’re already in fucking Mexico.”

Viktor sipped at his glass to hide a laugh.

If Richard thought no one’s ever dropped a line like that to him before, he’d be wrong. He really didn’t want to classify people or judge them on the surface, but in the years that Viktor’s been working, he’s noticed a pattern. Usually, it’s that the richer his clients, the more secretive they are about the whole thing. The younger ones, whatever the numbers on their pay checks, are more likely to show-off, to be insubordinate, to show everyone they could do whatever they want because they had the money to. That’s why he always asked for payment up front, and without shame.

Not that Viktor complained. No matter their own issues, they kept his bank account full. More than enough for Viktor to splurge more often than other people allow themselves to.

“Say, Anatoly,” Richard had said, when they were in the middle of an expensive dinner at a Michelin-starred restaurant. “Would it be crude for me to ask about your other clients?”

Viktor’s lip twitched, but he masked his expression as quickly as he could. Again, it wasn’t a question he’s never been asked before. “I’d like to focus on you tonight, sweetheart.”

“And to how many of them have you said that line?”

More than he could count, actually.

“Why?” Viktor leaned in, looking at Richard through his lashes. “Does it bother you that I’ve been with other people?”

Richard’s eyes sparked interest, though it took a little while before he was able to say, “You think that I might be?”

Ah, sending the question back his way to buy time. It looked like Richard wasn’t as witty as he wanted people to believe. Or he wasn’t as good of a flirt.

“I was just curious,” Viktor cut a piece of his steak and chewed on it for longer than he needed to. Regardless of what Viktor thought of Richard’s bloated head, he can’t let the sudden slip up deflate his own client’s ego. “I just don’t come across someone who bites _back_ , is all.”

That line had apparently turned out to be effective, and Richard was able to bounce back. “Maybe it’s because I’m a lot younger than the most of them?”

Viktor smirked. “Oh, trust me, sweetheart. You’re not the youngest of them.”

Unfortunately, Richard seemed to have taken this as challenge—and a blow to his ego. It wasn’t certain if Richard was insecure about growing older, or that someone far younger was unfairly as successful as he was. What Viktor knew for sure was that Richard was a man who liked the competition, liked winning it, and would do anything to best anyone at anything—even if unnecessary.

And so it set the tone for the night.

When they were tangled up in be together, Richard made a proposal Viktor’s heard a thousandth time. “How much would it take for me to fuck you without a condom on?”

“I’d never cross that line, I’m afraid,” Viktor said, palming Richard through his trousers. “Although I guarantee I can make you feel good even with them on, sweetheart.”

Richard hummed, clearly still debating whether or not to do something. Viktor silenced his thoughts, whatever it was, by stuffing Richards cock in his mouth.

As the night went on, Viktor realised Richard was still feeling a little obnoxiously competitive. He paused in the middle of ramming Viktor’s ass once, and trailed his fingers along the line of bruises on Viktor’s neck.

Viktor had made sure that they were faint, that they weren’t too obvious, and that he didn’t need to cover them up. And strangely, as the seconds passed, Viktor was starting to think that maybe he should have _begged_ Yuuri to bite a little harder.

“Do tell. Did he pay you more than I did?” Richard smirked, thrusting into Viktor’s ass in a slow, excruciating rhythm. “Did he ask you to take the damn condom off and you didn’t agree to it, too?”

He didn’t know why Richard thought it was something to be insecure over—or that it was an issue at all. Escorts get bitten and bruised all the time, some more loose and sore than others coming into an appointment, depending on how many clients they’ve allowed themselves to take at a certain period of time.

“Does it matter to you who fucks me?” Viktor dared to ask.

Because it wasn’t any of Richard’s business. Or anyone’s business. Whoever fucked Viktor was his business. Whether he decided not to use protection was his prerogative. Whoever he allowed in his space was purely his decision and his alone, unless he wanted it to be someone else’s.

“Not really,” Richard said, thrusting slowly. “I just want them to know I was here. I bet they thought about that, too, while fucking you. I bet they wanted the next person to know they’ve had their hands on you.”

Catching Viktor off guard, Richard went straight for his shoulder, and bit down _hard_.

-

Viktor arrived in Michigan with a sense of outmost relief. Las Vegas may be therapeutic to some, but all it did was stress him out. That, and the annoyance he had to go through by pretending he was drinking more than he actually was, especially when Richard’s friends were encouraging him to do as they did. They were all shit-faced for three nights by the way, including Richard, and Viktor earned a front row seat to people fucking in front of him on the last night. He left the same day Richard’s appointment with him ended.

Don’t get him wrong, Viktor could hold his liquor pretty well, but he guessed it was a matter of mood.

Plus, he was beginning to get impatient the whole time he was in Nevada, so he really didn’t want to add to it by blacking out with a raucous crowd of people he barely knew. What if he made terrible decisions then? Therefore, not an option.

On the brighter side, since his flight arrived at around five, Yuuri was able to pick him up from the airport. They got a cab and rode to Viktor’s apartment, their fingers laced together the whole time.

“How was your meeting?” Yuuri asked, sitting on the bed as Viktor deposited his bags in the closet. He didn’t want to unpack yet, for many reasons, but mostly because he was starving.

“It went great,” Viktor smiled. An impossible feat, considering how tired he was. “There’s this nice beach house they wanted me to redecorate, so maybe I’ll be gone again one of these weekends. I had a look at it and I may need a few days to get things done. You know.”

Right.

There’s the perfect excuse if someone was going to book him for a whole weekend. He might need to come up with something else once that one’s served it’s purpose, but Viktor will have to think about that. It wasn’t that hard to pretend he was a sought-after interior designer, was it?

He did look the part. Kind of.

“I’m glad,” Yuuri said.

Viktor couldn’t help but walk over to him and bend down for a kiss. He knew Yuuri wasn’t very comfortable with public displays of affection, nothing beyond holding hands, so Viktor waited to have him alone. And maybe that was selfish on his part, too.

Yuuri’s hands went to Viktor’s hips, pulling him down so Viktor could straddle him on the edge of the bed. Viktor still probably smelled like an airplane and a bad mood, but nothing made him feel better than the touch of Yuuri’s hands.

Which was a little strange, wasn’t it? He’s known Yuuri how long? Two weeks?

They started off languidly, slowly trying to remember what it felt like to be in each other’s arms again. Three days seemed like a very short time to some, but to Viktor, who’s never known to have met someone as wonderful as Yuuri Katsuki, it was awfully long and torturous. As their kiss deepened, Viktor nosed the crook of Yuuri’s shoulder, the sensitive spot where his graceful collarbone and neck meet. Yuuri took this as a sign to push further, and his hands slipped underneath Viktor’s sweater. For a moment, Viktor enjoyed the touch, feeling Yuuri’s warm hands on him, and then a sudden realisation hit.

Viktor was wearing a turtleneck, shielded and covered more than he usually was—but he could feel the bite mark on his shoulder like it was burning on his skin.

He ended up covering his sudden astonishment by tickling Yuuri mercilessly, which had reduced the other to a giggling, pleading mess. Viktor successfully broke the mood, and though he felt so bad for doing it, he thought it would be for the best.

“Hmmm,” Viktor said, when he gave in to Yuuri’s pleas. “I’m hungry.”

“Anything you want to eat?” Yuuri asked. “Something Las Vegas didn’t have?”

“Greasy fries and a burger,” he said. “Or something that isn’t overpriced.”

“Why do I have a feeling you went to Gordon Ramsay’s burger place?”

“Ugh,” Viktor groaned, rolling off Yuuri to lie on his back. It was nice to be on his own bed again, especially now that he was coming home to someone. Was this counting as coming home to someone? “Something no more than two dollars.”

“You spent that much in Vegas, huh?”

“No.”

Yuuri propped himself up with one arm and thought about it, eyes wandering upwards. “I know a hotdog place that caters to your budget,” he said. “Also, it’s the place I go to whenever I’m close to going broke. You’re welcome for that advice, by the way.”

“Noted,” Viktor grinned and got up quickly. “Come on, I’ll drop you off at exactly six thirty. Don’t want you to be late.”

Yuuri whined. Adorably.

Viktor had to kiss him one more time.

-

Sorting out schedules and keeping tabs on his clients was one of the things Viktor didn’t enjoy, but needed to do. There’s a budget set to pay for a private investigator who made sure Viktor doesn’t unknowingly walk into a psycho’s house and never be seen again.

But what a way to spend time on a weekend.

The said investigator was also responsible for looking into things his current regulars might be in trouble for—marital scandals, work-related conflicts, business crises—anything that might lead to revealing their personal lives, and in turn, would get Viktor stuck in the middle of it.

If there’s even a small sign of an eventual downfall, Viktor denies all attempts for an appointment right away, suggesting other available escorts who might be daring enough to take them.

Viktor stared at the text document sent to him via e-mail, roughly two hundred pages of daily logs. It would be much easier to just read the conclusion, of course, since it’d summarise the whole thing anyway, but one can never be too careful. Even after all this time, Viktor was still afraid that the investigator was going to miss something, some minute sign that only he could point out, and Viktor wouldn’t be able to avoid the consequences before it was too late. He was more familiar with his clients than the investigator after all.

Viktor sighed, and carefully read through each page.

There’s a report on one of his female clients’ escalating fall-out with her husband. Not a surprise, since it was the reason why she hired Viktor in the first place, but it had apparently come to a point where things have become volatile. She hadn’t called him in a while, but Viktor was going to be careful the next time she did.

If the rift between her and her husband died back down, Viktor would welcome another booking. If it looked like it was going to lead to a divorce, he would not accept it. Most of all, he would never get involved in it close to or during a divorce or child custody battle, because that would be a nightmare.

He would do it at least once a month, more when he had the time. He’s put away enough money for him to spend at least four times on it each month anyway, so why not?

When he was about half-way through the report, swamped with pieces of paper and his little notepad almost full, he decided to send Yuuri a text.

_What to eat when you’re stressed out?_

Almost immediately, Yuuri replied with a quick, _Definitely cheap chicken nuggets. With Barbecue sauce._

Viktor smiled. Picturing himself eating those nuggets made him really hungry, though. When he looked up the time, knowing he hadn’t eaten anything since morning—and found out it was five in the afternoon already.

Damn.

So, he pushed his luck by texting Yuuri, _Want to get drive thru? Will pick you up in five?_

So that was how Viktor ended up driving around Detroit to the closest McDonald’s he could find. Yuuri did say their barbecue sauce was the best, and Viktor couldn’t agree more.

“You said you were writing a paper?” Viktor said, digging through his own paper bag of greasy nuggets as they sat leisurely in his living room, paper bags and sauce packets scattered on his coffee table.

Yuuri groaned. “Please don’t remind me.”

“I didn’t bother you or anything, did I?”

“Not really,” Yuuri said. “I needed this anyway, so I figured I’ll come with. And it made me hungry once I thought about it.”

“Ah, am I not the best influence?”

“Nope.”

Viktor frowned, then poked Yuuri’s nose playfully.

They were interrupted with the sound of Viktor’s front door opening. This was not an uncommon circumstance for Viktor, so he really didn’t react.

Yuuri did, though. He turned around so fast as if he were expecting someone to point a gun at them.

It made sense, because it could only be two things—there was someone coming to mug them, probably with a gun, or Viktor had a boyfriend. And then, as if Yuuri caught on far too slowly, he dropped his bag of nuggets to the floor.

“Oh my god,” Yuuri almost shrieked, eyes wide, as he stared straight back at Chris as he was walking into the living room.

For a moment, Viktor really didn’t know how he should react, and then he looked at Yuuri’s face and laughed. “Yuuri, this is Chris,” he said, grinning. “And Chris, this is Yuuri. Please _behave_.”

As Chris walked toward the foldable living chair near the couch, he looked at them with piqued interest, his expression a questioning look when his eyes met Viktor’s. Though he didn’t say anything out loud, Viktor knew Chris was wondering “ _what do we have here?_ ” in the most annoying voice that Viktor could imagine. He tried his best to communicate a “ _please don’t embarrass me_ ” Chris’ way.

Yuuri, however, was still staring, as if in a trance.

Viktor can’t have that, of course.

“Yuuri—” he cooed. “I’m beginning to get the impression that you like him better than me. Please tell me something I can do to become him.”

“Win an olympic gold medal, I suppose,” Chris supplied.

“I can’t skate for shit, but I’ll use up all my money I have to buy all the gold medals that I can.”

“People normally don’t sell their olympic gold medals, Viktor.”

“I’ll steal them from you.”

“Sorry, _Cheri_ ,” Chris said. “I do love you, but if you did that, I’m calling the cops on your ass. What a shame that would be if Yuuri here had to bail you out.”

Yuuri came back to his senses after that, his astonishment receding a little bit. “You—you know my name?”

“Of course, I do! Viktor here hasn’t stopped talking about you!” Chris grinned. “And I believe you skate, too?”

“I—” Yuuri’s mouth was agape, obviously deeply overwhelmed, and whatever type of calm he’s managed to stock up on ran out.

“Chris,” Viktor cut in, eyes looking straight to at his best friend. He moved back, just to make sure Yuuri didn’t see, and mouthed, “ _too much_.”

Chris looked confused.

Well, it’s a job for Viktor, then.

“Anyway, he’s always here when he has free time,” Viktor cleared his throat, desperate to keep the conversation going. His hand went to Yuuri’s knee, rubbing circles to soothe him, and smiled. “He’s been trying to get me to skate.”

“It never happened, obviously,” Chris said, smiling at Yuuri. “Congratulations. You just made the ice skating noob a better person.”

Chris was kind enough to continue on with the introductions, throwing jokes here and sharing stories of him and Viktor there, which made it easier for Yuuri to adjust. Viktor always thought he had the type of charisma that could he could easily change up depending on who he spoke to, whether it’s an audience, one person, or a group of stuck-up sponsors. They were the same in that regard, although only one of them was a performer.

Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if people liked his best friend better than him. Would he be mad? Probably not, but he sure as hell needed Yuuri’s attention. A petty thing, sure, but Chris excusing himself to steal something from the fridge still somehow brought him relief.

Viktor buried his forehead on Yuuri’s leg. “Yuuri...”

“Yes, Viktor?”

“Are you going to come here more often for Chris? Because if you do, I’m kicking him out.”

Yuuri laughed almost instantly, his eyes crinkling in the way that Viktor liked. He wanted to see that, again and again and again.

“You think I’m a fanboy?”

Viktor shot up and looked at Yuuri, eyes forming into slits. “You have posters of him, don’t you.”

“Just one.”

Viktor pouted.

“If it makes you feel better,” Yuuri sighed. “Phichit has twenty of them. Some are from eight years ago.”

He buried his nose against Yuuri’s shoulder, just because he wanted to, and just because he could. Viktor didn’t know when Yuuri was going to start pushing him away, so he might as well enjoy it while he was still allowed to.

“Well, this is interesting,” Chris mused, stepping out of the kitchen with a can of soda in hand. “I never thought I’d see the day someone else would be up here.”

“We were just eating,” Viktor said. “Did you want something delivered?”

Chris stared at their bags of fast food and shot Viktor a dirty look. “If you’re intentionally making me jealous of the fact that I can’t eat the good stuff, then fuck you,” he said, his eyes slid to Yuuri. “So how are you boys doing?”

“What?” Yuuri squeaked.

“Second date went well or—?”

“Chris, _behave_.”

“So, did Viktor run out of ammunition?” Chris sighed. “I told him to come to me when he’s in need. I could have delivered your supplies in no less than ten minutes.”

Yuuri began to turn increasingly red. Hiding behind Viktor’s shoulder, he pressed his face against him, like he wished he could hide under Viktor’s shirt and never come out. “Oh my god.”

“ _Christophe Giacometti_ ,” Viktor glared.

“Sorry,” Chris said. “I was just joking, Yuuri. To be fair, I really didn’t know Viktor didn’t have supplies. I just made that up.”

“Not helping.”

“Still a shame, though,” Chris looked at Viktor. “I’m ashamed of you.”

Viktor leaned closer to Yuuri, who was still using Viktor as a personal shield, and said, “He’s saying I’m not a blabbermouth, _Zolotse._ ”

He really wanted to hit Chris in the head, but he was also enjoying the moment for what it was. Because for the first time, there were more than just Viktor and his thoughts in his living room. For the first time in a long time, he was actually introducing someone to Chris and not the other way around.

It was strange, and in many ways a bit awkward, but he wouldn’t trade that moment for anything else.

-

Eventually, Yuuri had to leave. He said he had a paper to finish by the next day and apologised he couldn’t stay longer.

Once Yuuri made Chris promise to sign a poster for his roommate, Viktor went to see him out the door. There, where Chris wasn’t close enough to judge him, he kissed Yuuri on the cheek.

“Maybe you’ll bring your homework here sometime?” Viktor got out, before he could even think about what he was saying. “I’ll make sure to keep you fed.”

Yuuri looked a bit surprised, but in a good way. “Wow. How about no?”

Viktor laughed. “Am I really bad company?”

“The opposite of,” Yuuri said. “I don’t think I’ll get anything done that way, so no thank you.”

He closed the door with a stupid smile on his face, and came back to Chris watching him carefully.

Chris was still sprawled on the couch, but was suspiciously chewing on something he shouldn’t be. It took one look at the disturbed take-out bags to know that he had succumbed to the pressure of good food, and didn’t look guilty at all.

“You had some of the fries,” Viktor plopped down next to him, shoving Chris’ feet so they both could fit.

“I hath not tasted the gifts brought by the fast food gods for seven thousand years,” Chris lamented pathetically. “Let me have my moment, dammit.”

Viktor laughed, digging into what was left of the fries. He normally didn’t get fast food because; a.) Chris had an annoying diet plan, and b.) it would make Viktor’s flavourless life even sadder. At least if he ate something nicer than most people, he could say he’s being more adventurous. Vegan pizza was better than sad, generic take-out pizza, right?

“So you really got laid this time, huh?”

“Yes,” Viktor muttered. “And by the way, how did you know I didn’t have supplies on me? That’s really creepy.”

Chris looked a bit hesitant to speak, looked around almost too consciously, and let out a nervous laugh. He was trying not to look at Viktor in the eye, and said, “Oh, you know. I was here and realised you took him home so I hid in your closet for a bit and saw everything.”

What.

Viktor must have had an epic look on his face because Chris burst out laughing. He made a sound much like that of a mad bird or a stupid seal, ugly and terribly embarrassing, with tears in his eyes to go with it.

“Chris, that’s not funny!”

“I was _joking._ Did you like my acting, though?” Chris said, still laughing like a piece of shit. “I wouldn’t do that to you, but if you don’t give me a heads-up, it _can_ happen. I’ll avoid using the key to your apartment from now on, I swear.”

“Doesn’t explain why you knew I ran out of condoms.”

“Well,” Chris coughed, laughter slowly receding, though still hiccuping. It was certain at this point that whatever face Viktor made, it would be embedded in Chris’ mind. He’s probably going to think about it randomly and burst out laughing again.

“Chris, if you really hid in a closet, I’m going to—”

“I know you keep them with your stuff for work,” Chris said.

It was right then, that perhaps Chris regretted ever saying that out loud.

All the laughing awkwardly ceased.

Viktor knew that the atmosphere shifted after that. Someone will have to start the subject, because otherwise it’d be weird to just jump to another one, and he really wasn’t ready to talk about it at the moment.

“I take it you haven’t told him?”

Viktor was beginning to hate this. “No, I haven’t. I really don’t know how to tell him, to be honest.”

“Really? He’s smart. And _very_ sweet. You think it’ll be an issue?”

“No. Yes. No. I—I don’t know,” Viktor admitted. “I don’t know how to do it, Chris. Do I wait for another two weeks? Another month? Do I wait and see if it gets serious or do I say it before that? If I do get the timing down, how should I tell him then?”

“ _Cheri_ , it’s really not that hard to explain, surely? He’s been in Michigan for a long time, and shit happens in here. _Weird_ shit,” Chris said. “You know he wouldn’t be too surprised, right?”

“Let me guess,” Viktor sighed, and using a feigned cheerful voice, he said, “ _Uh, hey Yuuri. I know I should have said something before, but I’m paranoid about people_ _finding out_ _about_ _what I really do for_ _a living_ _, so I never told_ you.”

“Viktor, that’s not—”

“ _I’m an escort, by the way, not an interior designer who freelances in selling antiques—oh, what was that? What do I mean by ‘_ _escort’? It basically means that I offer companionship, and depending on how much_ _you_ _pay me,_ _you_ _can either go to dinner dates and prom with me, or just outright sex._ _With condoms, of course. I get tested regularly, so there’s nothing to worry about._ _Oh, right, how many people have I been with? Hold on I’ll—_ ”

Chris reached over to him to grab his hands. “Hey. Stop that.”

The silence was palpable, almost arduous after that.

In their years as friends, Viktor and Chris had only ever discussed his profession once—and that was way back when he first told Chris about it. Chris hadn’t known how to respond then. Chris wanted to make sure Viktor was safe, but he also didn’t want to make it seem like Viktor was doing something really bad or dangerous. He knew Chris was alright with what he did, supported him even, never squeamish about it when Viktor slipped up here and there. Chris knew things people didn’t, knew his schedules and hourly rates, knew Viktor’s personal rules and protocol.

Despite not knowing exactly how it worked, Chris did everything to help Viktor anyway. He constantly wanted to know if Viktor made it home safe, reminded Viktor to regularly visit the health clinic for STI testing, made sure that he picked him up at the airport if his work involved travelling.

All that and they never talked about the more complicated things.

They never talked about how Viktor was struggling to find someone in his life because he was far too afraid of his secret getting out. None of them has ever spoken about what it was like for Viktor to constantly hide, to feel like he was always on guard, to pay thousands of dollars a month to a private investigator. Chris tried to broach the subject, a couple of times, but it somehow just never got to a point where Viktor willingly responded.

Strange, wasn’t it? That though Viktor finally came clean to his best friend, there’s still a thick, invisible wall that separated them.

“ _Mon cheri_ ,” Chris said, his tone soothing and careful, the sound of it almost unfamiliar.

When was the last time they even talked about the more important things in their lives and not just the superficial ones? Their conversations have all been about looking back on fond memories and what they did with on a daily.

It’s been so, so long.

“There is _nothing_ wrong with what you do,” Chris squeezed his hands, his touch warm.

“To be fair, it’s illegal almost everywhere.”

“In Nevada it isn’t, and you aren’t directly selling sex, you sell your time. Whether or not you agree to the said sex is of your own volition,” Chris teased, pointing out the loophole that made Viktor a lot of money in the first place. “Anyway, whatever his response is, you have to be ready for it. But surely, Viktor, he does like you for who you are and not for what you do?”

“He apparently likes my blowjobs, too,” Viktor managed a laugh, which meant that his head had somehow became clearer than it was a few moments ago. It wasn’t enough, though. “I really do like him, Chris.”

“So you’ll tell him,” Chris said. “But you’re not obligated to do it right away. Do it when you’re ready, and if he isn’t an asshole, he’ll think it’s ridiculous that you even stressed out about it in the first place.”

Viktor said nothing to that.

“Are you listening to me, Viktor Nikiforov?”

“Yes, sir,” Viktor said.

-

“What are you doing here?!” Yuuri said, in shock, as he stared at Viktor taking a seat on one of the barstools.

Viktor had been out to dinner with a client, but was requested to wear a sweater instead of a suit. Apparently, the said client preferred the meek, reserved type, and wasn’t really looking for any form of intimacy that night. Because, of course, Viktor wouldn’t have gone to visit Yuuri at work if he smelled like someone else’s come and sweat.

Although, he did spray something on when he came back to his apartment to get the car. Nothing wrong with extra precautions, right?

“I thought I’d come drive you home after work,” Viktor said. “I had some work done and finished late.”

“We’re not closing until two.”

“That’s alright,” Viktor smiled up at him. “Should I get a serving of the mozzarella sticks you really like?”

To be honest, he didn’t know if this surprise visit was bordering on clinginess, but Viktor didn’t feel like he had wanted to go home. Not home alone, at least. It was a nice Friday night and everyone was having drinks, so of course he was feeling more than a little jealous.

“Fine,” Yuuri said. “You’re lucky it’s not my cleaning schedule tonight. I’d be here until three if it were.”

Viktor waited as Yuuri powered through the last hour of his shift, biting at his greasy mozzarella sticks. (Which were heavenly, by the way. At this point, Viktor was going to come to the bar for Yuuri _and_ the food.)

And though they were nearing closing hours, the bar wasn’t running out of customers. There was a cut-off for all orders except the drinks, which meant that Viktor witnessed a fair amount of people walking up to Yuuri and blatantly (drunkenly) flirt _at_ him. Viktor would have been jealous if Yuuri weren’t such a champ at shutting them down humorously, attributing their sudden attraction to him on good old brandy.

“Looks like I need to come here more often,” Viktor said to him, when Yuuri was momentarily free from taking orders for once. “One day I might wake up and you’ve been swept off your feet. I’d be devastated.”

Yuuri snorted, as if the idea of someone actually _trying_ that hard to get his attention was alien to him. “With the help of a little liquid courage?” he said. “I doubt they’re going to remember me tomorrow, Viktor. Trust me when I say I’ve had so many people thank me for holding off the alcohol on them.”

“You really think no one’s ever gone out of their way to get a chance with you?” Viktor said, popping another mozzarella stick in his mouth. “That’s funny. I wonder how my wallet conveniently found it’s way near you the night we first met.”

Viktor wouldn’t have, for the life of him, admitted to something like that to anyone—because _duh_. It was indeed desperate and creepy, but Viktor was having the time of his life watching Yuuri react to all of this new-found knowledge.

“You _what_?!”

“I said,” Viktor leaned in closer. “I planted my wallet where you could find it as an excuse to see you again.”

Yuuri kept staring.

Viktor frowned. “Is that creepy? Was I creepy?”

“No,” Yuuri said. “I don’t know what to say, that’s all.”

He didn’t know whether he should feel good about that response or not. “You thought that was creepy, didn’t you?”

“No,” Yuuri said. “But you could have asked for my number, Viktor, and I would have given it to you.”

Viktor’s eyebrows shot up. “I thought you never entertained drunks?”

“Yes, but how could I not entertain _you_?”

Shit.

“How much longer before you’re done here?”

“Hey,” Yuuri put out his finger and wiggled it in front of Viktor’s nose. “I have work to do.”

Viktor checked his watch, only to find out that he was going to endure the longest fifteen minutes of his life.

Ugh.

After the excruciatingly long minutes, though, Yuuri eventually excused himself and disappeared behind a door with a ‘staff only’ sign, presumably to get ready to log out. When he came back out, he was carrying black backpack and a stack of folders, clad in his dark peacoat and blue scarf.

“You leaving early, Yuuri?”

A waiter about Yuuri’s age came up to him, wiping his hands on a towel.

Yuuri looked to the said waiter and smiled, “Yeah. Are you closing up tonight?”

“Yeah,” the waiter groaned, as if someone had condemned him to something really awful. And when his eyes slid to Viktor, and he smiled. “Oh, hi! You must be Yuuri’s boyfriend!”

Viktor himself didn’t know how to answer right away, though he felt a little more confident as soon as he saw Yuuri turn red. His face was almost comical as he tried to say something, but ended up not being able to.

“That depends,” Viktor said, grinning. “Does he talk about me?”

Before the waiter could reply, Yuuri swiftly cut him off by saying, “Viktor, this is Leo. He goes to the same university as me.”

“Thanks,” Leo waved at Viktor, though still eyeing Yuuri playfully. “And yes, he talks about you a lot— _ow_ , Yuuri, stop making a bad impression. How is he supposed to propose to you if you’re this abusive?”

Yuuri stuck his tongue out. “I don’t care. Phichit warned you about me already.”

Leo, unlike Yuuri, was apparently very friendly, most likely the kind of guy who’d be the one to introduce himself first to a hot random stranger. He looked a lot younger than Yuuri, though, maybe even younger than Phichit. When Viktor asked him about Phichit, and whether or not he was younger, Leo nodded.

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “Wait, does that mean—?”

“Shhh,” Leo held up a finger and grinned. “Don’t wanna get in trouble. Besides, it’s not like I’m drinking.”

Yuuri eyed him with suspicion. He didn’t believe that one bit. “Anyway, I gotta go home,” he said. “Good luck closing up?”

Leo flipped him off and shooed them out of the bar.

As soon as they were outside, Viktor immediately took the stack of folders from Yuuri and carried them himself. When Yuuri complained—saying that he was fine carrying them, thank you—Viktor pointed out that he already had a backpack with a heavy laptop in it and ‘ _please stop ruining my attempt at trying to look like a gentleman, Yuuri._ ’. He was adamant about it, and only returned them as soon as Yuuri was seated on in Viktor’s car.

“Have you had dinner?” Yuuri asked as Viktor was securing his seatbelt.

“Yeah, didn’t you?”

“I kind of...forgot?” Yuuri shrugged.

Viktor stopped fiddling with his seatbelt. “Yuuri, that’s not the kind of thing you just forget.”

“I know,” he gestured at the stack of folders. “But these were due at midnight, so...”

“Were you able to send them?”

“These are just drafts,” Yuuri corrected. “I had to rewrite the corrections and send it over e-mail. Do you know how hard it is to find good free wifi? I had to sneak back into the staff room a few times to check if the old lady who lived upstairs was home yet. She doesn’t know how to put in a password.”

Viktor laughed, starting his car. “Well, at least now I have a reason to keep you longer. What do you want to eat?”

-

They managed to find a food truck downtown, still swamped with people, mostly ones with office jobs who just finished doing paperwork on a Friday night. They looked dead on the inside, but hey, at least they’ll have time on the weekends to unwind. Viktor probably would have done the same if he ended up getting a desk job. Nothing more annoying than having to do paperwork while you’re supposed to be enjoying that new show that just came out.

Once they got their orders, they went back to Viktor’s car and set their paper plates on the hood, happily chewing on grease and soggy meat. You could say that Viktor hasn’t eaten from a food truck in a while, not since his career was stable enough to pay for both rent and his prissy salads.

“Yuuri,” Viktor said. “Why didn’t you order more than me?”

“Oh,” Yuuri looked to Viktor and shrugged, removing his scarf so it wouldn’t get dirty while he ate. “I don’t have a fast metabolism, so I don’t eat as much.”

What.

“It’s okay, I hardly have the time to eat anyway,” Yuuri smiled, as if it was going to make Viktor feel any better.

“If you’re working hard, I think that’s more reason to eat,” Viktor sighed. Chris might be picky with his food, but he ate a lot. If he didn’t, he’d most likely pass out in the middle of an ice rink due to starvation. Yuuri was no different, and shouldn’t feel like he had to hold back.

“I try to,” Yuuri said. “I’m just really tired, I guess.”

“Is it because it isn’t katsudon? Or mozzarella sticks?”

He had meant it as a joke, but Yuuri only continued to chew on his burger.

Normally, if he wasn’t too flustered, Yuuri would respond to Viktor right away. Despite what others might think of him, Yuuri was actually easy to talk to once you’ve warmed up to him. He wasn’t awkward in any way and knew how to control his nerves when he needed to. He’s even managed to hold his own in front of Christophe, for goodness sake.

So when Yuuri just went silent, it made Viktor awfully suspicious.

“That’s it, isn’t it?”

No response.

Viktor stared at him, face-palmed, and huffed. “Well, isn’t that just shocking,” he said. “Yuuri Katsuki, a picky eater—”

“Pizza.”

He blinked. “What’s that?”

“That’s what I’m craving,” Yuuri said. “Doesn’t matter if it’s frozen or the delivery kind, as long as there’s cheese. I just saw someone walking with it on my way to work. I’ve been craving it all afternoon.”

“I—” Viktor continued to stare at him, and then, “You know what, wait here.”

Viktor ran back to the food truck to ask for some take-out bags and put a confused Yuuri back in the car. Once Viktor had buckled up, their food put away in paper bags, he turned to Yuuri and said, “We can either go to your place and order pizza, or my place and microwave the frozen stuff. Or order pizza there.”

To be honest, Viktor preferred that Yuuri chose one over the other, though he he thought it might be too much to drop hints. He really didn’t want to do anything that’s uncalled for, not when they’re doing so well so far.

Yuuri considered this for a while, tapped his chin, and pulled out his phone. Without looking at Viktor, he asked, “Are you sure you have no ulterior motive in giving me that choice?”

“Psh. _No_? I wasn’t thinking that.”

“Okay,” Yuuri said, eyeing him. He looked to his phone again and began typing. “Let me text Phichit.”

He had to admit, he was a little disappointed by it.

“Your apartment, then?”

“Really?” Yuuri blinked at him in exaggerated surprise. “Oh, I guess I’m going to have to rewrite my text, then. I meant to tell him I won’t be home—”

Viktor started the engine quickly. “Nope, first intuitive decisions are the best ones,” he said. “Let’s order pizza at my place.”

Yuuri’s melodic laughter filled the inside of Viktor’s car.

He’s never driven around this late with anyone before, hadn’t appreciated it until then, but now saw the appeal. There was nothing more adventurous than to drive around without the traffic, to see things differently than you normally would have during daytime, to see the orange glint of the street lights reflect off Yuuri’s beautiful face.

Maybe Viktor found another thing he’d like to do over and over again once more.

And hoped that Yuuri might want to do it with him, too.

-

Viktor ordered two boxes of pizza. Yuuri protested at first, saying he wouldn’t be able to eat more than a slice, but Viktor called his bullshit and ordered two. Fast forward to the next two hours, Yuuri’s managed to eat more than Viktor, and they had no more than four slices left.

“Did that satisfy your cravings?”

“Hmm,” Yuuri nodded, accepting the glass of water Viktor handed him.

They were already eating so much, the least they could do was not add to it by drinking fizzy, sugary soda.

When Yuuri was done with his water, he leaned back against Viktor’s couch, and sighed in satisfaction. His eyes fluttered closed, completely relaxed and content. He must have been really tired. Considering all the work he said he was doing that day, it was no surprise he’d begin to shut down at five in the morning. Three more hours and Yuuri would have been awake for a full day.

“Do you want to sleep?” Viktor asked, reaching over to brush Yuuri’s hair out of his eyes.

He did it with no good reason other than to initiate contact, too.

Was that weird?

Was Viktor not supposed to do that?

Before he could think about it, Yuuri hummed in agreement, seemingly halfway to sleep. Viktor smiled, and shook his shoulder gently.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Viktor said.

At first, he didn’t know whether he should deposit Yuuri into the guest bedroom or not. Should he ask? Would it be such a big deal if Yuuri woke up next to Viktor the next morning? Yuuri, however, conveniently made the decision himself. He sleepily—almost instinctively—stumbled to Viktor’s bedroom.

“I’ll get you something to wear,” Viktor said, as soon as Yuuri sat at the edge of the bed.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. No one’s comfortable sleeping in jeans,” Viktor said, pulling out drawers and dug up one of his tighter-fitting shirts, a pair of sweatpants, and gave them to Yuuri. “Here you go. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Viktor went back outside to take care of the mess, put things in the dishwasher, and turned off the lights. He walked into his bedroom to find Yuuri already buried in blankets, his glasses carefully set on the one of the bedside tables, hair a mess of black against the sheets. That sight alone felt unusual, surreal, but not in a bad way.

One of those inexplicable feelings stirred up inside Viktor again.

But first, he jumped into the shower for a quick rinse.

When he was done, he slipped under the covers beside Yuuri. His arms found their way around the other’s waist, allowed himself to press close, enjoying the heat radiating off Yuuri like a furnace.

“Goodnight, Viktor,” Yuuri whispered in the haze of sleep, shifting only a little to press even closer.

In the years that he’s lived on his own, that he’s become who he was, he never thought for a second that he would need someone else’s presence around him. He never thought that physical contact would become something that he’d crave, something he would want so gravely from someone else. He’s so used to giving it to other people, so used to becoming the source of pleasure and company, used to giving someone what they lacked, even for just a few hours.

In that moment, no matter how brief, Viktor’s heart was ringing.

-

The morning was cold and Viktor felt it on his exposed skin. He was warm underneath the covers, though, even warmer where Yuuri’s body pressed against his. Viktor’s front was flush against Yuuri, bodies slotting together perfectly, their legs tangled in their sleep.

And like most times, Viktor was hard to wake up. He would have to claw his way out of the haze and into full wakefulness, had to think about what happened the previous night before thinking about much else. When he did come to, he noticed one thing: Yuuri had canted his hips just _so_ , causing Viktor to take notice of the hardness between his own legs.

Viktor’s lips pulled into a wicked grin.

Almost instinctively, he pulled Yuuri closer to him as a response to the invitation. Yuuri’s arm slid down to cover Viktor’s own, affirming that he was indeed awake, and that Viktor wasn’t only dreaming this up.

And wouldn’t that be _unfortunate_ , if all if it was a dream?

“I thought you’re used to waking up early, _Zolotse_ ,” Viktor whispered in his ear, taking the lobe in his mouth only to sink his teeth gently into the skin.

Yuuri moaned and pushed back, making it harder and harder for Viktor to think of anything else other than his erection. He could feel all the blood in his body rush straight down to his cock, filling his head with the desire to take Yuuri for himself, fuck him, make sure he couldn’t walk for three whole days.

Emboldened by the haze of sleep, Viktor’s hand wandered underneath Yuuri’s shirt, slowly caressing his chest, circling his nipples, lower and lower until they met the waistband of the sweatpants—Viktor’s sweatpants—and slipped inside.

He cupped Yuuri’s growing tent, hard and wanting as Viktor, and freed his cock from his underwear. Yuuri’s head fell back, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips, and began to press against Viktor’s hand in search of friction. Viktor took this as an encouragement to stroke him, his other arm slipping underneath Yuuri to pull him close, and pressed his cock against the plump curve of his ass. Beneath the covers, they were growing hotter by the second, their movements more impatient, charged by the need to relieve their desires as fast as possible.

“Tell me what you want,” Viktor said. “I can’t do anything unless you tell me, _zolotse_.”

Yuuri’s hips jerked forward as Viktor ran his thumb against the head of Yuuri’s cock, spreading the bead of precome forming there.

“You need to spell it out for me. Or I won’t do anything.”

Viktor planted a long line of kisses at the back of Yuuri’s neck, growing wetter and dirtier as his lips came closer to his shoulder. He released Yuuri’s cock, which had the other whimpering at the loss of contact, only to have them find Yuuri’s butt cheek and squeeze, Yuuri mewling in agreement. He quickly took action by grabbing the waistband and tugging it, enough to free Yuuri’s glorious ass, pushing his underwear down along with it.

“Oh, look at you,” Viktor murmured, as if entranced.

His hand explored down, grabbed a handful of Yuuri’s bare ass cheek and kneaded, teased, not doing anything too fast. He started kissing Yuuri’s neck again, just _because_. It’s becoming harder and harder to resist Yuuri nowadays, not when he did things to Viktor without even trying.

Impatience, however, seemed to have won over. Yuuri groaned and pressed close to Viktor again, made sure that his message was clear by wriggling his hips.

Viktor took a finger and slipped it in between Yuuri’s cheeks, his touch fleeting, and circled the rim of Yuuri’s entrance slowly. It was a question, as if to ask for permission, and Yuuri did not disappoint.

He nodded vigorously, his eyes still closed, and got out a hoarse, “Yes. Yes, please.”

Viktor slipped his arm out from under Yuuri, allowing him to reach the bedside table behind him, and clumsily pulled out one of the drawers. Blindly feeling for the box of condoms and the small bottle of lube he had left there, he felt Yuuri began to kick off his sweatpants, leaving him completely naked from the waist down. Viktor returned to him, eager, coating his fingers with lube as he started kissing the back of Yuuri’s neck again.

He began to run his finger between Yuuri’s ass cheeks, spreading them apart, before his finger found his entrance. He circled it, pressing a little more than he did before, and Yuuri encouraged him by canting his hips back, allowing Viktor’s finger to slip inside.

Slowly, he worked Yuuri open with one finger, patient and careful. In this bedroom, covered in the warmth of blankets and each other, they had all the time in the world. There was no need for them to rush. Yuuri had no concerns with school and Viktor didn’t have to work that day.

That day was theirs, and theirs alone.

Viktor added lube generously before he introduced a second finger, fucking into Yuuri gently, allowing him time to get used to the stretch. He changed angles, exploring, finding the right spot. He curled his fingers experimentally, driving them into that bundle of nerves that sent Yuuri quaking. Yuuri’s staggered breaths were irresistible, almost too hot to ignore. He sounded as beautiful and vulnerable as he looked, and Viktor couldn’t get enough.

“Yuuri,” Viktor whispered against his skin, teeth lightly scraping at his neck. “Look at me.”

Yuuri obliged, turning his head so he could kiss Viktor, and deeply so. As they kissed, Viktor added a third finger. He went a little slower this time, careful to pause at the right time to make sure Yuuri’s adjusted, before he continued to stretch him wider. He added more lube, enough that it was probably dripping all over the sheets, but he’d do anything to make it as comfortable and enjoyable as it could possibly be for them both.

“Viktor,” Yuuri said, in between kisses. “Viktor, would you please—”

“Would I what, _zolotse_?”

Viktor punctuated the question by driving his fingers into Yuuri’s prostate, Yuuri jerking in both surprise and pleasure as a result.

“Would you—” Yuuri gasped as Viktor pushed his fingers as deep as they could go, and stopped, grinding against the inside of Yuuri’s ass. “Would you please— _christ_ —would you fuck me already.”

Despite himself, Viktor chuckled. “You’re not the type to wait, aren’t you?”

Yuuri pressed back against Viktor’s fingers, desperate for something more. “No. Not at all.”

As if to emphasise what he just said, Yuuri reached behind him to grab Viktor’s wrist, slowly pulled his fingers out, and pressed against Viktor’s clothed cock.

Viktor felt like he was being trapped. Surely, Yuuri must have known the effect he had on Viktor? He must have known how to beg and move and react in the exact way that would make Viktor want to ravish him instantly?

They were so close together, now awake and incredibly hungry for contact. Viktor reached between them to free his cock, fumbled for the condom, and slid it on. He covered his cock in slick, stroking himself, feeling how hard he was just from the anticipation alone.

Carefully, he lined himself up against Yuuri’s entrance, shifting on the bed to make it easier. Viktor’s cock slid inside in one, slow thrust, Yuuri’s body pliant and his sighs content. It felt so warm, so good, and Viktor felt like he had crossed a barrier he never thought he would before.

He couldn’t tell why he felt that, or what that so called barrier was, but he was going to think about that in a much later time.

Viktor gave Yuuri time to get used to the stretch, not moving too much, grinding in and out to make sure there was no sign of discomfort. Yuuri appeared to be completely relaxed, if not a little annoyed of Viktor’s lack of movement, and was moving his hips around as if to encourage Viktor to go ahead.

“Come here,” Viktor said, pulling Yuuri a little closer to him.

He started with slow, deep thrusts, not enough to send them into climax, but just the right pace to relieve the need for friction. As the moments passed, Viktor began to pick up the pace, constant and relaxed, without thinking about getting there too soon.

Yuuri, however, proved to be a little impatient. He began to push back again, fucking himself on Viktor’s cock, meeting him mid-thrust as they went. Viktor could feel the thrumming of Yuuri’s heart against his, could smell nighttime Detroit in his hair, could taste the bar Yuuri worked at on his skin.

“You really don’t like to make things easy, don’t you?” Viktor said.

“No,” Yuuri replied, breathless. “Not if you’re fucking me like that, no.”

Viktor took it as a challenge and pulled out, completely—and then thrust back in.

The resounding moan coming from Yuuri was almost as satisfying. He was in haze, his eyes fluttering shut, mouth sinfully parted as he heaved for air. “More,” he said. “ _Harder_ , Viktor.”

And who was Viktor to deny him of that?

“Anything for you, _zolotse_ ,” he lifted one of Yuuri’s legs— _oh_ , was Yuuri flexible—and began to move his hips more vigorously, fucking him hard and steady.

Sweat started to form on Viktor’s forehead, his back. The sheets slid off of them, revealing Yuuri’s toned thighs and pert ass, Viktor’s cock disappearing deep inside him. And the best thing about it, the best thing besides the fact that Yuuri felt _so_ good, was that Yuuri was repeatedly saying his name—over and over and ‘ _you feel so good inside me_ ’ and ‘ _I need more_ ’ and ‘ _faster_ ’.

Viktor could do nothing more than to bow down and agree to Yuuri’s wishes, and how could he not? He slid down, just a little, pulling at Yuuri’s leg to get that right angle, and began to fuck him that way. Yuuri writhed, moaning, telling Viktor that he was hitting the right spot.

“Yes, right there,” Yuuri mewled. “Right there, _fuck_.”

Despite how he normally was in person, Yuuri didn’t seem the type to be quiet about what he wanted in bed. And Viktor loved it.

Viktor could feel tightness pool within him, a string pulled taut. He knew he was getting close, knew that any more of Yuuri and he would begin to crumble. And just as he was thinking about it, Yuuri reached up to wound his arms around Viktor, fingers clutching his hair and keeping him in place. Yuuri yanked at them, almost too harshly, and turned his face so he could kiss Viktor.

The kiss was wet, deep, careless, and the whole thought of it was send Viktor faster and faster into the edge of his climax. His fingers dug themselves into Yuuri’s leg, bruising, as he kept fucking into him without a care for pacing. His hips were beginning to stutter, all his muscles were tightening, he was beyond his usual sense of control.

“Touch yourself for me,” Viktor said, licking into Yuuri’s mouth. “Please, Yuuri. I’m so close—”

Yuuri answered with nothing but a swift, “I don’t have to.”

Was that—was that even possible?

Viktor held on for a long as he could anyway, pushing on and on though his movements have become jerky and his breath was ragged. It didn’t take long, however, for Yuuri’s head to fall back against him, his moans closer to a shout, his ass tightening around Viktor’s cock.

His fingers digging deep into Yuuri’s skin, he felt his release, pleasure shooting up from his cock to his brain. His vision blurred, and for a second, he thought he couldn’t hear a thing. Viktor could do nothing but to _feel—_ of how it was be with Yuuri, to kiss him, to be inside him.

He was no more than an animal who sought pleasure from something so beautiful, and he was more than okay with that.

They came down from the high of climax gradually. Viktor pulled out of Yuuri and threw out the condom, stripped the rest of his clothing, and went to the bathroom to get a wet rag to clean up. Once he came back to bed, he slipped under the sheets with Yuuri, pulling him close, catching their breaths together as they listened to their slowing heartbeats.

Yuuri was facing him now, his head against Viktor’s chest, hair slightly damp from sweat. Viktor kissed it, unable to help himself.

“You were so good, _zolotse_ ,” Viktor said.

There was no good reason to say it other than he wanted to. Just because.

Yuuri hummed. “So you want breakfast, or?”

“You mean dessert?”

He felt a soft slap on his chest. “I’m serious. I’m really hungry.”

“Really?” Viktor lifted his head as if he were surprised. “I mean, we could go another round—”

“Viktor!”

Viktor laughed, lifting Yuuri’s face so he could kiss his cheek. Again, there was no good reason for it. He could, so he did. “Alright. What do you want? Cook? Take-out?”

“Microwave the pizza from last night?”

“Good idea,” Viktor said. “But not enough, though.”

Yuuri shrugged. “I’m out of ideas.”

“How about,” Viktor shifted, pulling Yuuri closer to him. “We drive around and go from there? Are there places you haven’t been to before? We could check them out.”

Perhaps, Viktor was making things complicated, because they really could just save themselves the trouble and stay in. They could just raid the fridge and probably come up with something nice to start the day. So was it a bad idea?

The grin on Yuuri’s face said otherwise.

“Take me somewhere nice?”

-

“You know, it would be customary for me to be the one to pick you up and not the other way around,” Paul said, kissing Viktor on the cheek as he walked into the hotel room. He was dressed smartly for dinner, pressed suit and matching pocket square. One of the many things that made Paul so attractive was that he could dress wonderfully, no matter his age. “You won’t mind if I know where you live, would you? I just want to drop you off after.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Viktor reached for his tie, straightening it, although it really didn’t need to be. “It’s not that. I just...well, I have somewhere else to go tomorrow morning, that’s all.”

“Without stopping for a change of clothes?”

Shit.

“Yes.”

Paul eyed him curiously. “Ah, I guess I should get used to it from now on,” he said. “You are getting popular, my dear.”

“Nonsense,” Viktor laughed. “You know I treat you differently than most.”

At the beginning of Viktor’s career, back when he was just advertising his services on free classifieds and questionable sites, Paul was already there. He had seen Viktor with long hair, had recommended him to his fellow rich friends, and had taught Viktor a few tricks in the bedroom and out. Not to mention that the sex, given that Paul wasn’t too stressed or impatient, was good. He tipped Viktor generously, brought him to dinner dates before bringing him to the bedroom, never hurried into anything, made sure he looked good for Viktor though not at all necessary.

In all things that mattered, he was Viktor's  _favourite_ , although Paul never believed that.

“I want us to start with dinner,” Paul said, pulling his coat on. _Armani_ , Viktor noticed, in-season and fresh out the runway, too. The man didn’t have a stylist, and that alone said a lot about his personal taste. “Unless, you want to go somewhere else first?”

Viktor reached over to help him button up. “Not really,” he said, smoothing out any crinkles he saw. “That’s really up to you, sweetheart. You’ll have me all night, remember?”

Paul grinned. “What if I said I’d like it if you made all the decisions for me tonight?”

He looked up at him, hands stopping where he was buttoning Paul’s coat, and chuckled. “You know I can’t refuse.”

Viktor hadn’t brought him anywhere before dinner, but he did order for Paul, from the drinks down to the dessert. Unlike most of his clients, Paul treated him like he was an actual date, plus the extra gifts. He’d ask Viktor about his day, would laugh when Viktor joked about something, asked about the food on the menu, and opened doors for him.

And how unfortunate of Paul’s wife, for she’s missing a man who’s clearly a keeper.

“Really? I thought you said horse racing was boring you.”

“Yes, but clearly, Joe’s trying to up me with his bets,” Paul said, chuckling. “So I bet on every single horse and pretended I had a good eye for winners.”

He had wonderful eyes, laughing ones with the faintest lines on the corners. Viktor imagined he was quite a catch back then, popular high school jock turned businessman and all. It was almost unthinkable for a man like Paul to end up being lonely.

“You do, though,” Viktor said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the first horse you picked out was actually the winner.”

“It was the last one, actually,” Paul laughed. “You could say I get riled up easily, Anatoly.”

Viktor laughed. “Might want to stick to golf, next time?”

“And lose because Joe’s cheating? I pass.”

At this point, Viktor’s already familiar with every single character in Paul’s life. So much so that he could buy all of them birthday presents and they’ll most certainly like them. Viktor found out that paying attention to his clients, then mentioning something on the next meeting, made him seem more interested in who they were and what they did. It made them feel special, so instead of just purchasing sex, they were paying be treated like kings and queens.

It was one of those things that set Viktor apart from the others, and was probably what was being said about him in the forum threads he had yet to find.

“How are you doing, darling? I heard you’ve been attending a lot of exclusive parties lately,” Paul said, sipping at his wine. Premium, barrel-aged, fifty years—just like how Paul preferred them.

Viktor hummed. “Nothing much. I must say that most of them are quite _boring_ , to be honest.”

A small smile formed on Paul’s lips. “Oh? Why’s that?”

“Oh, you know. It’s people trying to outshine each other and all that. You know how many of them come up to me and expect me to be impressed?” Viktor waved his hand dismissively. “I’d much rather sit in a restaurant talking to you. Any day.”

“You always flatter me, Anatoly,” Paul set his glass down, lips tinged with red. “Surely, I’m not that interesting?”

He could feel his lips quirk up into a sly smile. “You _know_ you’re interesting. You just want me to reaffirm it.”

“Am I?” Paul laughed. “And here I thought I wasn’t trying hard enough.”

If there’s one thing about Viktor that’s clear from the very beginning, it was that he didn’t let anything slip away. He’d notice things before anything really happened, remember?

Viktor didn’t know how, when, or which way the order of the following events went. Was he distracted? Hadn’t he paid enough attention to his surroundings? All he knew was that one moment, Viktor was flirting with his client—

And wine was being splashed at his face the next.

“You _whore_!” said a woman in front of him, seemingly popping out of nowhere, Viktor’s wine glass still in her shaking hands. She was standing there, her face very familiar, hovering over Viktor with a glint of mad rage in her eyes.

A pause.

And then, looking equally shocked, Paul said, “Mel?”

She whirled to look at him, and with the wine glass in her hand, she pointed at Viktor. “You said you’d be out on a business trip. You told our girls you couldn’t come to their recital and—” Mel spat out, almost like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing herself. “You lied your way through all that for a common _prostitute_?”

Viktor sat there, hopelessly pale and numb.

His eyes darted around the restaurant, and he could see the other patrons looking at their table in either shock, humour, or disgust. The whole place was so still, almost laughably so, that no one moved or uttered a single word.

Who was Mel again?

Viktor had to think. And think he did.

Mel.

 _Melissa Dunham_. Wife of Paul Dunham and co-owner of Dunham Enterprises. They had two children, both girls, and one of them just turned seven that month.

She was the woman he got so suspicious of at the grocery store.

 _Fuck_.

This whole time—this whole time Viktor avoided the spotlight, and now he felt like he was bare naked in front of everyone else. His hearing was nothing but repetitive, white noise, his throat dry and painful, and his chest was about to explode.

His first instinct was to get up and turn to the doors, eyes cast down. “Excuse me—”

But Viktor was yanked back, all too harsh and swift that his legs hit the edge of the table, and the woman said, “No, no you don’t.”

“Let me go,” he gritted out.

She grasped his arm even tighter, delaying his escape. The more seconds he was being held down, the more he was being exposed to the people around him. And Viktor can’t, for the life of him, get away from her.

“What’s your name?” she demanded. “I want to know your name, so I can _ruin_ you and everything you care about, you filthy, piece of—”

She wasn’t able to finish her sentence, as a man in a suit intervened, removing Viktor from her clutches. She protested, telling the guards she wasn’t at fault. She kept calling Viktor names and encouraging everyone in the restaurant to remember what he looked like—but before she could say more, Viktor was already on his way out the doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Send me prompts/say hi on Tumblr!  
> HMU [@anna-domini](https://anna-domini.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Also, this chapter would've went on and on had I not been valiant in restraining myself. *pulls out Excalibur* (Although, I _do_ realise I'm not worthy. I just like the image. Like a gif on Tumblr.)


	4. Think It Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor has an obsession with security.
> 
> Also, he doesn't know how relationships work. Please be patient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a few days late but I was scrapping and rewriting the smut because me is insecure AF when it comes to that shit.
> 
> Also, I'm uploading this before I regret it. Bye.

In most situations, _anyone_ would find it embarrassing to run down the streets in a full pressed suit, bumping into alarmed passer-bys, with a face that could only be translated into sheer panic.

But tonight was not most situations.

Viktor had just ran out of the restaurant and bolted to god knows how many streets away from it, driven by adrenaline, and feet carried by the need to shield himself from whatever harm’s way. Instinct was the kind of thing you relied on when there’s nothing you could do; so when it told him to run, oh did Viktor _run_.

But he was not a man who didn’t think things through. He might have come up with an escape plan in a split-second, sure, but it was a damn good plan. He wouldn’t go as far to say that it’s fool-proof, because nothing ever was.

Said plan was to get himself as far away from the restaurant as he could, try to make sure no one knew where he went, and call a cab.

“Where to?” The driver asked in a thick, southern accent, and didn’t seem to question what Viktor was doing hiding out near the dumpsters. On a Friday night. In a fucking suit.

Viktor told him to drive to a frequented nightclub, throwing in a smile for good measure.

You could say that he was still on-guard, his defensiveness pouring out of him like an animal’s raised flank, so of course he thought the driver could somehow still be traced back him. Dashboard cameras are everywhere now—he even has one—that’s why he chose to be dropped off somewhere populated and not directly to his home address.

Hell, the plan he’s concocted had him considering the driver as one of Melissa Dunham’s men. Viktor’s not worried, of course. He was equally as decisive as he was imaginative. It wouldn’t hurt to think up as many back-up plans as possible.

He removed his tie, unfastened two of his shirt buttons, undid his suit jacket, and messed up his hair.

Perfect.

Nothing spoke ‘the usual stressed out businessman’ like a guy who wasn’t wearing his blazer properly. If he’s lucky, maybe people would get too annoyed thinking about what a douche he looked like and not talk to him. He always did get noticed in clubs after all; and if he was going to have to make them think he was an obnoxious, rich mama’s boy to take attention away from him, he would.

Once he’s been dropped off at the nightclub, he went straight to the bouncer and did what he normally did to get in. Annoyed faces of the people in line be damned, it wasn’t his fault he was good at making promises he’d never keep.

Stepping into the darkened room, strobe lights and all, he felt some of the weight lifting off his chest. He wasn’t home yet, far from it, but he wasn’t out on the street and ready to be snatched. The only disadvantage to this whole thing was that he couldn’t hear shit, so he had to constantly look around to make sure he was still safe.

Would that make him suspicious? Yes, but he knew how to navigate the said club with his eyes closed.

There was no point in panicking. Viktor hovered around for a while, completely collected, still plotting and thinking. If he made any slip-ups, whatever damages that’s already been done could turn into one massive, irreversible shitstorm.

And of course, he could only be imagining that people were actually after him, but he’s seen what rich people could do.

If Melissa Dunham co-owned a business empire, she sure as hell had an army of bodyguards and spies, investigators and hackers, the whole nine yards. Andif Anatoly Petrishchev was going to make an escape tonight, he would make it as a clean as fuck, without a trace of his hair anywhere near Viktor Nikiforov.

He didn’t go near the bar, just in case some of his potential (imaginary) pursuers asked about him, and instead stayed close to the dance floor. With so many bodies crammed up in so little space, it would take even the most diligent head-hunter a few minutes to spot him, add that to the dizzying party lights cutting through dim lighting and it would sure cloak anyone perfectly. It would be suspicious not to dance, of course, so he did all that by cementing a step-by-step process as to how he was going to go from there.

A few minutes into the third song, Viktor excused himself from the girl grinding against him, swearing to come look for her once he got back. She giggled and said something about wanting to take him home, to which he responded to by squeezing her ass.Again, he was good at making promises he wouldn’t keep, and was also good at choosing a girl who’d be drunk enough to forget he ever talked to her next day.

Pretending to be absolutely hammered, he walked in a crooked line, eyes fixed on the direction of the back door. He found his way out into a dank alley, stripped off his suit jacket, and threw it into a dumpster along with his tie. Still attentive to anyone following him, he continued to walk slowly, shivering in the cold late autumn winds. He pulled out his phone, retrieved a safety pin that’s always in his pocket, and was about to take out the sim card when he stopped.

It was most definitely a stupid thing to do, considering how paranoid he was about the whole thing, but he took a little bit of time to find his pen knife and write something on his palm. When he was done with that, he got out the sim card with swift hands. He broke it in two, more vigorously than needed, and threw what was left of it into the sewers.

Phone still in hand, he navigated through the settings and started a full reboot—erasing what little data he had on it.Viktor continued to walk down the streets, keeping away from the lights, and wandered around a bit. If anyone was following him, he’d be able to notice them if he drew them out, so he turned to random alleys and walked in circles, then threw his phone in the trashwhen he was confident no one was around.

From there, tension was still boiling up inside his stomach. He was still expecting something to come up behind him, wondering if he’d see a flash or shadow from the corner of his eye, so he stayed vigilant the whole two-mile walk from the last random alley he turned to and his street.

A few blocks away from his apartment building, was another residential condominium. He went in, avoided looking at the guy sitting at the front desk, and used the stairs to come up a random floor. He went straight for the fire exit, climbed down that, and found himself in a back alley along the line of residential buildings that included his own.

Once he found his apartment building, he again climbed the ladders to the fire exit to another random floor, and took the stairs to his.

And then, he was home.

He bolted the door and leaned heavily against it, feeling cold sweat on his skin. It had been so cold outside it was almost a relief to be in room with a radiator again. Viktor’s knees felt weak, his heart in his throat, and his hands were shaking visibly.

“It could be worse,” he whispered to no one in particular, again and again, as if he hoped someone was going to reaffirm it for him. He needed it. Gravely.

But this was no time to grovel.

It was nine in the evening, far too late for any calls to the bank, but not too late to call his private investigator.He wasted no time by hurrying to his bedroom to get to his walk-in closet. If there’s one thing in his apartment that Chris didn’t know about, it’s that one of the mirrors in his closet had very small, unnoticeable hinges on the side; which allowed it to open like a medicine cabinet.

Behind it was an electronic safe. The best that the store had, he was told.

Inside, were a couple of things worthy of a two-second close-up in a generic spy movie—a thick wad of cash enough for three plane tickets and a week’s stay at a hotel, his passport, documents, a hat,and a small backpack. A set of spare clothes and somedrugstore hair dyes were in the said backpack, just in case. There were also several fake documents and identification cards, all with his face but not his name. At the very back of all that, were two cheap prepaid phones.

Burners. Not the first time he’s used them, though.

Once he powered one on, he went straight to the contacts, and found only two important numbers—Christophe’s and his private investigator. Without hesitation, he punched the call key.

“ _Hello? Alex?_ ”

“Stephanie,” Viktor sighed in relief. They’ve agreed that she used a codename if he called from one of the two burners, just in case someone tapped in on the conversation. He’s never been more thankful for his obsession with security. “I caught a bit of a snag tonight.”

A pause.

“ _A bit? You wouldn’t be calling me using this number if it weren’t such a big deal._ ”

“Okay,” Viktor paced around the room, still shaking, though a little less paranoid. “One of the spouses managed to follow their husband to dinner. I was there and—well, you know. I haven’t been careless. Not too much, I suppose.”

Another pause.

“ _Is it P.D.?_ ”

“Yes.”

“ _Alex, I thought I already warned you about him?_ ”

Viktor wanted to bang his head on the nearest hard surface. “I know,” he said. “But he was lonely and his wife and him got into an argument. You know how I get when he tells me about that, right? His kids secretly _hate_ him but he doesn’t want to believe it. Can you imagine how that must be for him?”

Stephanie sighed.

An understandable reaction, Viktor thought.

“ _Alright, listen. I’m going to call up Tom and have the security to your website reinforced. You know he’s one of the best, right?_ ”

And oh, Viktor knew. He wouldn’t have chosen to invest so much of his money and personal information to Stephanie if he didn’t trust her with his life.

Viktor nodded, although no one was really there in front of him. “I know, I trust him. And I trust you.”

“ _Okay, do you have any social media?_ ”

“No.”

“ _It doesn’t matter if it’s your working persona or it’s your private one._ ”

“Does Skype count?” Viktor asked.

“ _Send me an encrypted e-mail with all the usernames and passwords. I’_ _m_ _going to have Tom shut them down. You understand why?_ ”

“I do.”

“ _And Alex? Don’t worry about getting into a lawsuit, okay? She has no grounds to incriminate you, no matter how good her lawyers are. Your personal information’s sealed and your other clients won’t be dragged into it,_ ” she said, calm as ever. “ _Lay low for a while if you want, but really, it’ll blow over soon_.”

Viktor felt doubt sneak up on him faster than he could think about the words coming out of his mouth. “I don’t think it’ll ‘blow-over’ soon. She did promise to find me and ruin everything I care about.”

“ _Nonsense,_ ” Stephanie said. “ _If she did that, she’ll risk having someone release all the bank transactions her husband did with you._ ”

“Steph!”

“ _I’ll make sure not to put your name on it, of course,_ ” she said. “ _But trust me, Alex. We’ve done this before, right? It didn’t even take more that a few weeks the last time this happened._ ”

“Yes,” Viktor muttered. “But the wife also didn’t threaten me.”

Stephanie stopped speaking for a while. She knew Viktor liked thinking up as many worst-case scenarios and hatch a plan A through C to all of them. Had she tried to argue with him any further, or tried to comfort him when he was so clearly distressed, he wouldhave turned really, really stubborn. No one would be able to work with that once it’s happened.

“ _Fine, you can stay in as much as you want until you feel secure. If you have any appointments with people associated with P.D., cancel them. You’re still free to entertain other customers, but I suggest no outcalls to_ _residences. It’s safer when you’re not on their property,_ ” she said, then the sound of papers being shuffled around followed. Stephanie was already on the move, Viktor knew. “ _Did she have any bodyguards? People who could have followed you?_ ”

“I tried my best to leave no traces of me,” he said. “I stopped at a nightclub and walked in circles before I went home. On foot.”

“ _Were you paying attention to security cameras?_ ”

“Stayed in the dark and didn’t talk to anyone.”

“ _Good, this is why I like you. You make my job so easy_ ,” she laughed, and frankly, Viktor was thankful that one of them still maintained their calm. “ _And if you’re going to ask me if you can call your friend, no. Send him an encrypted e-mail saying you’r_ _e_ _alright._ _But h_ _e’s free to come to your apartment if he wants to.”_

“Okay.”

He imagined Chris would be worried out of his mind, but he always worried about Viktor, so that would be easy to handle. And then there’s another issue, “Can I call someone else, though?”

“ _Who?_ ”

“They’re not a public figure, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Despite Viktor’s careful but swift decision to dispose his phone, he did take a bit of time to write down Yuuri’s phone number on his hand.

Unnecessary? Yes.

Dumb? Not really.

Did he regret it one bit? Not at all.

Stephanie, however, seemed to have gone silent on the other line. She was contemplating, knowing that Viktor might not take ‘no’ for an answer.

“ _You can make calls but try to do it on a different_ _location_ _. A coffee shop_ _or a restaurant. Somewhere people just come and go._ _It doesn’t have to be too far away, just not in your street._ ”

“Gotcha.”

“ _Alright, call me if you need anything else? I have a lot of people to contact tonight_.”

“Thank you,” Viktor closed his eyes, feeling light-headed and warm for the first time. Sure, he was still shaking, he was still covered in cold sweat, but at least the adrenaline was subsiding a bit. Without all that restless energy, he felt himself calm down, and managed to open his laptop and send Chris an encrypted message.

And yes, just to answer the question, he did pay to get _all_ of his e-mails encrypted. It wasn’t even that expensive—if you knew how to navigate the deep web. Honestly, Viktor was prepared enough that he could become a fugitive and people wouldn’t know where he went for _months_. Chris always feared he’d go crazy and disappear without a trace one day.

“ _Don’t underestimate the power of a mental breakdown,_ mon cheri.”

He shook the thoughts away, getting back to work. It was indeed too late for him to call banks, but it wasn’t too late to take down notes and list phone numbers. Making a to-do list of what he had to do the next day was the most reassuring thing—listing time schedules, contact numbers, bank transactions, and money transfers—because he knew something could be done.

That was good, wasn’t it? There’s a concrete solution to his problem, and that was the most important thing of all.

The next thing he did, however, was one that was out of character. He showered, changed into a nondescript hoodie and jeans, took the second burner from the safe, and slipped on a pair of glasses. Minutes later, he was again climbing down the fire exits to walk around the back alleys, relying on memory as he moved through darkened streets. It wasn’t the safest thing to do, but he was stubborn and quite strong, so unless someone had a gun he’d be fine.

A few minutes and ten turns later, he was about three streets away from his address, sitting on a bench at a bus stop. He dug out his burner and clenched his teeth. Viktor was visibly shaking again, not knowing what to do once he’s made the call, but he’d be damned if he didn’t do it anyway.

“ _Hello?_ ”

“Hey, Yuuri. It’s me,” he said, huffing in the cold.

Viktor was beginning to think that it was such a bad idea until Yuuri responded with, “ _Viktor? Is this you?_ ”

“Yes. I—”

He didn’t know what to say. Dammit. This was exactly what he worried about earlier. What was he supposed to tell him? ‘ _Hello, just here to check on you_ ’?

“ _Is this a new number?_ ” Yuuri asked.

“Yes, yes it is,” Viktor sputtered. “I—I just wanted to call you just in case you texted me on my old one or something. I lost my phone so...yeah.”

“ _Okay,_ ” Yuuri replied, his smile almost audible in the way that he spoke over the phone. Viktor could picture it in his head, too. The way his eyes would crinkle, how his cheeks would become more prominent, how the curve of his lips were so sweet and lovely. “ _Do you want to see me tomorrow?_ ”

“That—that would be great, yes. Please.”

“ _Alright,_ ” Yuuri said. “ _I still have customers waiting. See you tomorrow morning?_ ”

Wait.

“Yuuri, wait!”

A pause.

“ _What is it?_ ”

“Can you—I know this might be too much to ask, so tell me if I’m being to pushy or forward or something, I just—” Viktor felt like his tongue was dragging on the pavement. “Can you come to my place after your shift? It’s just—I really need to talk to you. To talk to someone right now.”

Viktor didn’t even know what he was thinking, asking that question. Why, for the love of god, did he even think that wasn’t creepy? Oh no, Yuuri was going to drop the call on him, wasn’t he—

“ _Are you sure I won’t bother you? I’m still cleaning tonight so I’ll be out at three_ ,” Yuuri said. “ _Might be there at three-thirty.”_

“Oh. Oh, Yuuri...”

“ _Make sure you’re awake?_ ”

Viktor could picture that smile again, more comforting this time, and terribly endearing. “Yes. Yes, I’ll be awake, _zolotse_.”

-

If it weren’t for the work he had to do during the five-hour wait, Viktor wouldn’t have known what to do with himself. But he guessed the universe could screw you over one way and bless you with something else right after.

Cheers.

He wasn’t too sure if feverishly going through client information and scheduled appointments were a good thing, but at least he wasn’t feeling too alone with his thoughts. He was worried, true, but at least his mind wasn’t picturing out distressing scenarios again.

Stephanie pulled up names and sent them over to him, about a dozen people associated with Paul Dunham and his wife, which he would have to avoid from then on. Well, not until everything else ‘blows over’, if it were possible. As for the clients who’ll find out his phone number was out of service, they would have to contact him through his website, and he’ll deal with them from there.

Chris would have an idea as to what happened the moment he opened that e-mail Viktor’s sent him, so he’s not a problem. And true to his paranoia, he was in a habit of cycling through phone numbers twice a year, just _because_.

Viktor was going to need a new phone—two, in fact. One that’s easily disposable and another for...well, just for Yuuri.

His family’s used to him changing numbers, so they don’t really question it, but Yuuri wasn’t used to all that. Sure, he bought that one excuse because it was completely reasonable for Viktor to lose his phone, but next time? He wouldn’t know what he’d say. Maybe Viktor should be honest about it from then on? But what was he going to tell him? That Viktor was called a ‘ _whore_ ’ in front of a few dozens of people? That he was publicly shamed only a few hours ago? And that’s why he had to lose the phone and everything that came with it?

Just thinking about it suddenly gave him the urge to throw himself out of the windows, because how _pathetic_ was that?

Stephanie definitely wouldn’t recommend it—getting two phones and risk getting tracked on his other one—but she didn’t have to know. If he did got found out—well, that was another problem for another day. He’s already proven he could get away from dire situations, so he might as well live a little.

Viktor felt himself sink so low that night. Was he having a panic attack? He didn’t have physical reactions to it, so maybe he was just freaking out internally? Wait, he felt like he wanted to either run around or smash things or throw up, was that a symptom?

Jesus Fucking Christ, what time was it?

Speaking of the world’s way of blessing him when he’s screwed over, he heard a knock on a door. He checked the time, just after three-thirty; and without thinking, he bolted to his front door and threw it open.

Relief rushed through him like a gushing river, seeing Yuuri standing there in his peacoat and dark blue scarf.

Viktor did not understand why he threw himself in front of Yuuri so quickly, why he felt like he needed that embrace. That human contact. He didn’t know he needed it until it was there, right in front of him, the smell of nighttime Detroit and cheap brandy.

“Are you alright?” Yuuri asked, his voice muffled by the tight embrace. “You look really tired.”

“Yeah,” Viktor got out, although he only said that because he didn’t know how to respond. His heartbeat went off, had gone on to have a mind of its own, betraying his body in more ways than one.

Yuuri broke the awkward silence by gently patting Viktor on the back. “Well, do you want to let me in, or...?”

“Oh, yeah,” Viktor stepped back abruptly, making way for Yuuri to come in.

As they came in the living room, they were met with a mess. There’s stacks of papers everywhere—his _clients’ profiles—_ and all Viktor could do was to rush to it and try his best to shield them away from Yuuri. He haphazardly shoved them into the thick binders, not giving a damn about how they got crinkled, and closed his planners and calendars before Yuuri got a look at the names of hotel rooms and scheduled times and listings of obscene amounts of money.

“Working late?” Yuuri asked, causing Viktor to jump. He was out of his peacoat now, clad in a grey sweater that’s a little too loose on him, and his glasses adorably wonky on his nose.

Viktor reached out to straighten it. “Forget about me, you’ve been working all day, too.”

Yuuri smiled at him, sweetly, his face still flushed from the cold outside. He held up a hand, which Viktor now noticed was holding a paper bag. “I got you those mozzarella sticks. I was told you really liked them.”

“I did!” Viktor said, despite himself.

“Well, do you want to eat them now? You can snack on them while you work.”

Viktor stared at the mess on the coffee table and felt like he wanted to throw up. The point of asking Yuuri to come over was to distract him, not to encourage more distress. “That’s a good idea,” he said. “But you know what’s a better one?”

“What?”

“We watch _Back to the Future_ while eating them. You don’t have classes tomorrow, right?” He suggested, which he definitely wouldn’t have done if he were alone that night. Lucky for him, that wasn’t the case. “Or, we could have it playing in the background until we feel like sleeping.”

Yuuri looked at the binders again.

Surely, Yuuri could notice him fretting by now? There must have been something on his face that screamed ‘ _I’ve screwed up so bad_ ’? Viktor was trying his best not to show his anxiousness, anything at all that would make Yuuri go, ‘ _is there something wrong?_ ’.

“You’re really trying to get out of work, aren’t you?” Yuuri shook his head, amused, then gestured at the stack of paperwork on the table. “We could do whatever you want. But I’m going to need your microwave. It’s been two hours since I ordered these.”

And that was it.

While Yuuri was busy reheating the take-out, Viktor had gone on to scoop up the papers and everything else from the coffee table. It was bad enough that there was some physical reminder of his current predicament, let alone that he felt like Yuuri was walking closer and closer to the thin curtain that Viktor hid behind. There’s always that uncertainty; he’s felt it when he’s around his friends and family back in Russia too, and he debated whether or not it’d be such a good idea to tell anyone about the things he did to pay rent.

Chris was different, though. Viktor already knew he wouldn’t judge someone he’s grown up with.

Yuuri—well, Yuuri’s a different case. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his reaction to Viktor’s profession, but it was more about how he’d think of Viktor after knowing about it. Was he going to get jealous? Was he going to ask him to do regular STD tests? Or worse, was he going to pity Viktor and consider him a victim of unwanted circumstances?

He didn’t want Yuuri to feel insecure or inadequate, nor did he want to make Yuuri feel like he or Viktor had to make huge sacrifices to make whatever they called their ‘relationship’ work.

“Hey, Viktor?” Yuuri called out from the kitchen.

“Yeah?”

“I noticed you have popcorn.”

Viktor grinned. “Really?”

An hour later, they were sprawled on the couch together, Viktor behind Yuuri, arms wound around his waist. They fit perfectly, he thought, no matter how overly-dramatic it might sound.

“I’ve always liked George,” Yuuri said.

“George McFly?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri nodded, drawing circles on Viktor’s arm. “I always liked that all he needed was a little push. You could see how that one thing that Marty changed made his life better in the end .”

“But we can’t all change the past, Yuuri.”

“That’s not the point,” Yuuri looked back at him, eyebrows furrowed. He looked so annoyed it was adorable, that and the messy hair and Viktor was going to have the hardest time letting him go. “I mean, George gave up in high school, right? That’s why he was so miserable when he got older. But in the other reality...when he didn’t give up, things were a lot different. He was happier in the long run. I mean, I know we can’t change the past or anything like that, but if we give up now, who knows what’ll happen in the future...”

And like the typical Yuuri, he got embarrassed fast, catching himself rambling on. “I’m sorry. I was boring you, wasn’t I? Let’s continue watching.”

“ _Zolotse_ , I told you. You never bore me,” Viktor said, kissing the back of Yuuri’s neck. “I like the way you think.”

“You like that I babble about George McFly?”

“Yes,” Viktor said. “And not only that, I also like that you believe in second chances.”

They continued to watch the movie, but soon after, Viktor was beginning to get a little distracted. He found himself nuzzling into Yuuri’s hair, his neck. He was leaving a trail of kisses there, lips pressed softly, Yuuri’s hair brushing against his nose.

Yuuri turned around, finally distracted from the movie, and kissed him. It was slow, lazy, their bodies both tired but still affectionate and wanting. Viktor had no idea intimacy could be soft, not lustful. He never thought that one could admire a person without desiring to go any further, because whatever they gave you was more than enough.

“You wanted to tell me something,” Yuuri pulled away, just a little.

He knew there was something wrong, or at least there’s something that concerned Viktor. The distressed call Viktor made wasn’t exactly subtle, and from what Yuuri’s shown so far, he seemed the kind of person who paid attention really well.

“If you’re not ready to tell me anything, and it’s just my company you’re looking for, that’s fine too,” Yuuri said, hand coming up to cup Viktor’s face, foreheads pressed against each other. “You are in no way obligated to tell me what you’re not comfortable to.”

“Oh, Yuuri,” Viktor almost whined, arms coming up behind the other to pull him closer. “I—”

Say it, you idiot.

It won’t be that hard.

He would understand.

“I was just really—I an into some problems at work today. That’s all,” he said. Not exactly a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either. “You know I kind of work by myself, right? So it’s really, really stressing me out.”

“I could tell,” Yuuri began kissing him, slowly though deeply, hands slipping down to his chest.

Viktor slowly climbed over Yuuri, straddled him on the couch, and continued to kiss him that way. He wanted to get closer, the closest way he could. There’s this need for contact, for touch, not words or reassurances. Someone could always tell him he was fine, that the next day would be better than the last, but nothing compared to a kiss that said ‘ _I’m here_ ’ and an embrace that whispered ‘ _You don’t have to tell me anything_ ’. Viktor could never truly define how Yuuri was so much better at showing than telling, but it was wonderful and he’d take what he could.

Desire was coursing through him, as with Yuuri too. Viktor could feel their clothed cocks rubbing up against each other, hard and alert. How was it possible for Viktor to be this turned on without losing a single piece of clothing, he still didn’t know, but that sure as hell said a lot about what he felt.

“The stuff’s in my bedroom,” he whispered against Yuuri’s ear, biting it, his teeth sinking more fiercely than he ever allowed them to. “Do you—would you want to?”

As if in response, Yuuri took Viktor’s lower lip and sucked it into his mouth, teeth grazing it gently. “Help me up.”

They stumbled into the room together, a mess of clothes and messy hair, fingers and limbs tangled together as they they continued to kiss. They kicked their shoes, removed their clothing, anything that might come between them.

The air was cold but Yuuri’s skin was warm; so much so that Viktor couldn’t keep his hands off him, and loved how more flushed he became the more they kissed and touched. It might be understandable that at this point, Viktor was in complete surrender. Yuuri might ask him to do something and he definitely would have—no matter how dangerous or stupid.

Viktor was straddling him, their cocks sliding up against each other, but they weren’t in a hurry. This moment was theirs. No problem or worries or number of people out there to get him was going to make Viktor leave Yuuri’s side. He felt Yuuri’s palm cup his cheek, thumb caressing Viktor’s temple.

“Your eyes are pretty,” Yuuri said, pulling away, a soft smile on his lips. “Blue, but not like the sky. Like the ocean.”

Viktor’s mouth fell open, speechless and astounded.

It was so incredibly intimate, so gentle, and it made Viktor’s heart soar. A thousand people had said something about his eyes—they were ‘ _the loveliest_ _of_ _blue_ _s_ ’, they were ‘ _seductive_ ’, they ‘ _could break a man’s resolve_ ’—but no one’s described them the same way Yuuri did. He’s never been with someone in bed, naked and bare and vulnerable, who couldn’t find anything more beautiful than his eyes.

Not his body, not his hair, but his eyes.

His body was the one people were after. It’s the one they paid him for.

If they think his body stopped looking beautiful, they’d stop looking to him for anything. But his eyes would stay the way they are, for however long, and that’s what Yuuri noticed. Viktor wished he could keep him for that long.

“Hey,” Yuuri said. “Did I say something wrong? Was that too much—”

“No,” Viktor turned toward Yuuri’s open palm and kissed it gently. “No. I just think you’re lovely. And amazing. And I like you far too much it scares me.”

“Why?”

“I keep thinking,” Viktor’s lips found Yuuri’s cheek. “That you might wake up one day and realize you could do better.” He moved down to his neck, and flicked out his tongue, “I keep thinking that you’re not real, and that I just happened to imagine you.”

Viktor moved up to kiss him firmly on the mouth, fiercely, until they’re both breathless. “I keep thinking that you’ll know something about me, or I’ll do something, or I’ll screw up one way or another—I’m afraid I might hurt you, or I might hurt myself...I’m _so_ confused, _zolotse_. I might grow too attached, and you might not want it, or it’ll scare you away...”

Yuuri’s hands touched his face, and guided him so that they see eye to eye. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, firmly. “And oh, Viktor. Why would you ever think that? To be honest, I’m the one who thinks you aren’t real, because you’re pretty and I don’t deserve you.”

“Wrong,” Viktor said. “Wrong again.”

He brought his hips down, grinding his hard cock against Yuuri’s, their moans breathless and unguarded. He took his time, kissing, touching, and caressing the places he’s never been. They fell into a slow, unhurried rhythm, Viktor thrusting his hips against Yuuri’s, breathing each other’s gasps and moans.

It wasn’t so much about the sex, as it was for the need to touch and be touched, to kiss and be kissed. They could do this all night, never once reaching climax, and Viktor would pass out and sleep happily.

When Yuuri’s thrusts were beginning to become more eager, Viktor took his hand, and guided them behind him. Yuuri took it as a sign to grab Viktor’s ass, but Viktor shook his head.

“Take me,” Viktor pleaded. “I need you inside me.”

Yuuri stared at him, a little surprised, “Are you—are you sure?”

“I am,” Viktor said.

Yes.

Always Yes.

Yes to everything Yuuri asked of him.

Yes to everything Yuuri said.

Moments passed, and without a word, Yuuri moved his hand and traced a finger around Viktor’s entrance. Viktor shivered from the contact, feeling the strange sensation of experiencing something new again.

It definitely wasn’t his first time to have someone touch him there, but why did it feel so different?

Yuuri pulled away to catch his breath, one hand still probing at Viktor’s entrance, the other caressing his leg. As he looked up, his eyes caught light, and his pupils were blown wide. “Which drawer?”

Viktor understood immediately, awkwardly reaching over the drawer to grab the lube and a string of condoms, then carelessly throwing it beside Yuuri. He went back to put his mouth at work, much easier than just surrendering to all the sensations happening in his ass, otherwise he was going to come embarrassingly fast.

But Yuuri wasn’t letting him take control, he pushed himself up and caught Viktor’s mouth in a searing kiss, and when Viktor was distracted by the suddenness of it, Yuuri flipped them over swiftly.

That smooth display of strength alone had Viktor reeling, because _Jesus_ that was so hot. Yuuri snatched the bottle of lube, lowered himself between Viktor’s thighs, and pinned his hips down the bed. The next thing Viktor knew, Yuuri was taking the tip of his cock into his lovely mouth, using his tongue to tease the slit. Viktor jerked in shock, but again, Yuuri was strong—so he really couldn’t move even if he wanted to.

Yuuri was thorough with him, used his tongue at the right places, sucked hard when he needed to. He bobbed his head in varying speeds, bringing Viktor close to orgasm several times, but not really granting him the release. In less than a few minutes, Viktor was already heaving and sweating, he was _pleading_ for god sake. He was begging Yuuri to just fuck him—prepping be damned—because he was already losing his mind far too much to even think about the consequences come morning.

“Yuuri,” Viktor whined, almost pathetically. “Yuuri—please. I can’t...”

And Yuuri must have finally pitied him, because after that, he heard the sound a bottle getting uncapped. Viktor couldn’t express the confusing relief and excitement that he felt, how the sound of something so mundane was making his whole body react so eagerly. It took a while before he felt Yuuri’s fingertips touch him, which he had wondered about; but it all made sense as soon as he felt Yuuri’s warm touch. It would be safe to assume that Yuuri had taken his time to warm up the damn lube, even if Viktor thought that was unnecessary.

He was already stretched out nicely, what with his previous plans for that night and all—yet Yuuri’s touch was still electric. The first push of his finger was still wonderfully satisfying, going in smoothly, faster than if Viktor hadn’t prepared himself. Nonetheless, he sighed at the contact, feeling Yuuri move in and out of him. He focused on the push and pull, his body relaxing, getting used to the feeling.

Yuuri took Viktor’s cock in his mouth again, still as attentive and giving as before, sending waves of pleasure that had Viktor moaning his name again and again and again.

“ _Zolotse_ ,” he pleaded. “Don’t be—don’t tease me— _ah_!”

Viktor threw his head back, legs shaking from the direct hit to his prostate. Was it possible for it to feel this good? For his teeth to chatter from the sensation alone?

His hands went to grab Yuuri’s hair, tugging at the dark strands, feeling the muscles on his stomach tighten. Yuuri took it as encouragement, bobbing his head faster, his fingers constantly stretching and teasing Viktor’s ass.

“Yuuri, if you don’t st—stop—ah, shit—” he gasped. “If you don’t stop—I’m going to—”

And perhaps, he really didn’t need to warn Yuuri anyway, because maybe that’s what Yuuri had planned all along. Instead of pulling off of him, Yuuri took Viktor’s cock even deeper, tip hitting the back of his throat, gagging a little.

That’s when Viktor lost all control, a moan rumbling from deep within him, spilling come into Yuuri’s warm mouth. His heart was racing so fast, hair matted in sweat, and his mind blissed out and incoherent. Yuuri continued to finger him as he pulled off of Viktor’s cock, planting kisses on his thighs, biting the skin there.

“Yuuri—”

Vision still blurred, he could see Yuuri’s figure lean over, reaching for something—then the sound of foil ripping.

He was in no shape to actually think, to even clear his mind for a second, before he was suddenly filled with anticipation. Viktor kept thinking about getting fucked while he was still delirious from his orgasm, to be pounded into like a toy when he was still oversensitive. There was something about the feeling of being used by Yuuri, over and over and over again, that excited him more than he thought he would.

“Are you alright?” Yuuri asked, his hands massaging the inside of Viktor’s thigh.

Seeing a lot better now, Viktor looked down and saw Yuuri studying him. There’s this expression on Yuuri’s face that was both concerned and contemplative, but also strangely tender and endearing. Like he was asking for permission.

And why the _fuck_ would he need permission, when Viktor was right there, baring himself like he’s never done before?

Yuuri had already rolled the condom on, his cock teasing Viktor’s entrance, but he wasn’t moving goddammit.

“Come here,” Viktor opened his arms wide, welcoming Yuuri in the embrace. He kissed his nose and his cheeks, feeling a little recovered but not quite. “Come on. You haven’t fucked me yet, have you?”

“Greedy,” Yuuri nuzzled the side of his neck, breathing him in. Viktor probably smelled like sweat and sex right now, but it didn’t concern him too much.

“You know I can’t get enough of you.”

“You say it like I’m going anywhere,” Yuuri snorted.

Yuuri slowly pressed in, Viktor’s recent orgasm making it possible for him to take it in one, slow thrust. It was like his whole being had given in, his body most of all, yielding and handing over what power he had left in him. Viktor wrapped his long legs around Yuuri’s waist, pulling him closer.

Thrusts drawn-out and deep, Yuuri went slow, fat cock dragging deliciously inside Viktor the way he needed it to. The kisses were languid but constant, making up for the ones they couldn’t do when Yuuri was giving Viktor the best head he’s had in a while. They stayed like that, nothing but gasps and gentle touches, Yuuri’s cock sliding in and out of Viktor’s ass. The feeling of it was making his heart quake; filled to the brim with Yuuri, surrounded by the his scent, forever in his embrace.

Yuuri started to thrust a little faster, his hips meeting Viktor’s with a steady pace.

“Faster, _zolotse_ ,” Viktor whispered. “I need you. I need you. Fast—.”

He gasped as Yuuri changed angles, just a little, but it allowed for the tip of his cock to graze his prostate. Not hitting it directly, but pleasure singed through his whole body. Viktor tried to lift his hips in the attempt to find the right angle, to chase his pleasure, but Yuuri kept him in place.

“Slow down, Viktor,” Yuuri whispered against his ear, biting at his earlobe, kissing down his neck.

You would think that at this point, Viktor would have gotten used to Yuuri’s kisses, but that was not true. Yuuri’s kisses were intoxicating, addictive, and Viktor was willing to spend the rest of his days being kissed by him if it were possible.

Viktor’s dick was hardening again.

He never thought he’d ever recuperate so fast. His cock was hard, alert and wanting and seeking attention. It was like Yuuri could touch him all day and it wouldn’t be _enough_. Never enough. Viktor wanted to keep him, to embrace him and sleep with him and fuck him without a care for time or anything else.

Lost in the overwhelming feeling, Viktor threw his head back, still fighting to move his hips, but couldn’t.

All of the sudden, Yuuri pulled out of him completely, leaving Viktor in a state of confusion and shock. He needed that contact, and if this was Yuuri’s way of teasing him into madness, it was working.

And it was, as they would say, a little cruel.

“ _Zolotse_ , come back—”

“On your stomach,” Yuuri said, though his tone still gentle, hand on Viktor’s thigh. “Come on.”

Viktor complied almost immediately, not waiting to be told twice.

Yuuri took one of the pillows and slid it under Viktor, his ass up in a perfect angle. He began fucking Viktor that way, and oh was it _wonderful_. Yuuri’s cock was hitting Viktor’s prostate directly, turning him into nothing but a mess of unintelligible huffs and pleased groans. Viktor’s body was tightening, his mind incoherent. He could feel Yuuri so deep inside him it was making his eyes water, his hips more desperate, his skin hotter.

Oh, god. Was Yuuri going to make him come again?

“Yuuri,” Viktor mewled. “Yuuri, _baby_. I’m so, so close...”

In response, Yuuri slid an arm under him and lifted his hips, his other hand coming up to grasp Viktor’s cock. Viktor moaned, loudly, impatiently thrusting his hips to keep up with Yuuri’s rhythm. He was fucking into Yuuri’s fist and was getting fucked in the ass—and if that wasn’t heaven, he didn’t know what else it could be.

Viktor’s climax came almost out of nowhere, breath stuttering like a dying machine, his moans broken and whimpering. He went limp all over, legs giving out like they were nothing, his whole body supported only by Yuuri’s strong arms.

Yuuri’s breathing was beginning to become heavier as well, his hips jerking wildly, losing their rhythm. He let go of Viktor’s cock and leaned forwards, steadying himself on one arm, hot breath so close to Viktor’s ear.

“Yes, baby. That’s it,” Viktor encouraged him, hand reaching over to grasp Yuuri’s ass, pulling him closer. “Yes. Yes. Yes. Come on. You’re doing so well.”

The arm supporting Yuuri gave out. He managed to keep his weight off of Viktor by relying on his elbows, moaning out assurances of how perfect Viktor was, how he could do it forever, and even dirtier things that were making Viktor hot all over again.

Finally, Yuuri gasped, long and hard. His body shook, heart racing so fast Viktor could feel it against his back. He let out one last laboured groan before he pulled out of Viktor and dropped beside him, his chest rising and falling, sweat covering his face.

They laid there in silence, not speaking a word, but looking into each other’s eyes. They didn’t need to say anything. They’ve said enough through their touches alone.

At the end of it all, they were tangled together under the soiled duvet, the first light of the morning bleeding through the blinds.

Viktor thought, that was it—the moment he told Yuuri everything. Maybe if he caught him off guard, he’d be a lot more forgiving about it. He looked down and saw Yuuri against his chest, sleeping serenely, handsome as always—

And Viktor thought, _next time._

-

Viktor was awakened by the sound of his bedroom door swinging open, the sheer force of it causing a few things to rattle. He shot up from where he lay, ready to make a run for it if he needed to, waking Yuuri in the process.

“Viktor!” Chris barged in, shouting at the top of his lungs. “Where were you? Why didn’t you text me? I kept calling you—”

“Chris,” he gritted his teeth, eyes boring into Chris. Shit. He glanced at Yuuri, who was still rubbing at his eyes, confused, half-awake, and naked. “Did you—Did you check your e-mails? I said I lost my phone.”

“Viktor, that’s not—”

“I tried to call you, too, but I think I might have had the wrong number written down,” Viktor lied. He’s had Chris’ number memorised for a number of reasons, and he hoped to god his best friend took a hint and stopped talking already. “Can we have breakfast first? I’m starving.”

What had Chris been saying again? Had it been too much? Has Yuuri picked up on Chris’ mad distress? Viktor forgot all about it in his struggle to catch up with his still-sleeping mind.

Oh god.

How was he going to smoothly recover if Yuuri heard something?

Viktor looked at Chris, pleaded with his eyes, and jerked his head toward Yuuri.

Chris blinked at him, glanced at Yuuri as if he didn’t understand, and then he closed his eyes and nodded. Thank goodness. “I’ll be outside while you boys get ready,” he said, though still looking a bit uncomfortable. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

He waved a hand dismissively, and went to step outside.

Sighing, Viktor turned back to Yuuri again, who was now desperately burying himself under the duvet. He reached over to him, playfully tugging at the covers to reveal that pleasant blush colouring Yuuri’s cheeks.

Well, at least there was something nice that he woke up to in the morning.

“Oh my god,” Yuuri shrieked. “That was so embarrassing!”

“It’s Chris, _zolotse_ ,” Viktor chuckled. “And trust me, he’s seen so much of that at competitions, he doesn’t really care about it any more.”

Yuuri burrowed his face into the pillows even further.

Viktor laughed. “Well, why don’t I help Chris in the kitchen and see what he needs. You can shower if you want.”

No response.

“And join us for breakfast?”

Yuuri groaned. “I don’t think I can look at him in the eye after this.”

“I’ll make him promise not to mention it, alright? Ever. Not this morning, not tomorrow, not in a few years, not ever again. If he does, he’ll break his perfect nose. How about that?” Viktor leaned over to kiss his cheek, and was strangely satisfied to know that Yuuri smelled like his favourite fabric conditioner. Was that strange? “I’ll be outside.”

So, it’s Saturday morning, apparently.

He’d always wondered why was it that time passed so fast whenever he needed more. There’s still so much to be done, but he couldn’t make a move unless he’s sure Yuuri’s not watching him.

Or he could just tell Yuuri, but he was not ready.

Pushing those thoughts aside, he got up to pull on some pants and a shirt, grabbed his burner phone, and went out to find Chris already in the kitchen.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Viktor hissed, pulling him as far from the doorway as possible. “What if someone found out about me and used that against you?”

Chris looked at him like he was being unreasonable as fuck. “You sent me an e-mail with so little to go on but ‘don’t come here’ and ‘my phone’s gone’ and you expect me to just sit still? Of course, I’d check up on you, you idiot! What if it wasn’t you but a kidnapper who sent it?”

“I’m not dumb enough to get kidnapped.”

“Even the smartest people get kidnapped,” Chris said. “And sometimes for no reason at all. But that’s not the point, is it?”

“I was going to handle it.”

“I know you will. You have come out of problems like this and you were fine, but Jesus, I was _this_ close to having a heart attack this morning,” Chris shook his head, eyes on Viktor. “Listen, I don’t care what the hell they say about me, my P.R. can take care of that, I worry about you. Stop trying to protect me, _cheri_ , and let me help you for once.”

No, Chris didn’t understand. Viktor didn’t want him to get involved not only because it would start media firestorm (a hell of one), but also because the said craze would cause permanent damages—i.e., Viktor will be forever remembered as Christophe Giacometti’s prostitute friend. It was selfish of him to think that way, but Chris was far too important to the ISU, and an issue like that would not bar him from any future career options. Viktor, however, would be stuck in the business he’s in.

Viktor was not ashamed. Never. But he could only be beautiful for so long.

“Is there something I could do for you?” Chris asked.

“Not much,” Viktor said. “Just...try not to say anything to Yuuri, alright? Not yet. I’ll tell him myself.”

The look on Chris face somehow told Viktor what he truly thought about this, but he didn’t say anything. He let out a long, frustrated sigh, and nodded.

“Stay for breakfast?” Viktor asked, moving to the fridge. “I may not be the best cook, but you can never fuck up scrambled eggs, right?”

Chris looked outside the kitchen and into the living room, and then his eyes went to the burner phone on Viktor’s hand. “You have to make calls, right? You can stay here and do whatever you need. Leave the cooking to me.”

Right.

Viktor did the usual damage control by contacting Stephanie, asked for updates, and followed instructions. He had to send out e-mails, call banks to transfer his money into a different account, and pretend he was just making lay-outs for a supposed design job. With his laptop facing away, he did most of the work in the living room without Yuuri suspecting a thing.

Checking his calendar, he fired off e-mails to some of the people on Stephanie’s list, sending apologies and a promise to reschedule. He made sure to wire refunds as well. Viktor didn’t usually cancel on appointments, nor was he ever late for anything, so you could say the general reaction to his ‘emergency’ were forgiving. Which they couldn’t do so much about anyway, since they knew Viktor would stop offering his services to them the moment they lashed out on him.

Again, it’s one of the few advantages of making yourself into a luxury.

“You look really stressed.”

Viktor looked up and saw Yuuri observing him, a small, fond smile on his face. Oh god, he loved seeing him in the mornings, in _Viktor’s clothes_ too.

“Ah, it’s nothing,” he let out a low chuckle, hoping he didn’t sound too nervous. “I just have some e-mails to send out. Rescheduling some work, that’s all.”

Yuuri hummed, sipping his cup of coffee.

And of course, Viktor’s mind wandered elsewhere. He imagined how good it would be to always wake up to this, to spend his morning like this—watching the television with Yuuri on the couch, sipping coffee and getting ready for the day. But what was Viktor going to tell him when he left for the night? That he had business meetings until dawn? That couldn’t be possible, could it?

At least, not right now, he thought.

Hopefully.

Was that too much to ask?

“Boys, come get breakfast!” Chris singsonged as he stepped out of the kitchen, plates in his hands.

It smelled a lot more than just eggs, Viktor realised, but once he saw all the green, he was beginning to question his decision to pass the cooking on to his best friend.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, _cheri_ ,” Chris frowned. “This is good for you.”

“I go to the gym regularly, so thanks but no thanks,” Viktor coaxed Yuuri to come with him to the dinner table. When Yuuri hesitated for a moment, he winked and mouthed, “ _He doesn’t bite._ ”

“The gym’s not enough,” Chris huffed. “Think about how clean and healthy you’ll be if I were your roommate! None of that grease and extra preservatives, or salt.”

“Don’t insult me and my Yuuri’s favourite food.”

“Oh, so we’ve come to this now, have we?” Chris mused. “The point where you choose the hot boyfriend over your best friend? I thought you’d be different,Viktor!”

Yuuri turned red at the mention of the word ‘boyfriend’, but Viktor wasn’t complaining. Regardless of what Yuuri felt about the labels, at least that got him thinking about it.

“You should come to the bar Yuuri works at. With me, of course. They have the best food!”

“Like?”

“The best fries and burger combination of your life.”

Chris gasped. “That’s worse!”

The morning went on like that for a while. They talked, Chris teased, and Viktor tried to save Yuuri from the embarrassment. It was so easy to get lost in it, to assume things would be much easier from then on.

Viktor could take a month off, right? He’s made so many cancellations already that he might as well avoid working for a while. There’s money for the rent and utilities, for food and everyday things, so there’s really no issue if he decided to take a breather.

“Don’t you have skating practice today?”

Chris shrugged, loading the plates into the dishwasher. “My coach wouldn’t mind me coming in late. Besides, it’s a Saturday.”

They were alone again in the kitchen, Yuuri having excused himself to take a quick shower. Something told Viktor Chris wanted to tell him something, which he had been right about all along.

“Chris...”

“What?”

“I know what you’re doing.”

“What I’m doing, is spending time with my best friend,” Chris said, still busying himself with the dishwasher, not looking directly at Viktor. “And getting to know his boyfriend. Whom I also like for him to keep, because they’re perfect for each other.”

Viktor didn’t say a word.

“If you’re going to ask me to stop coming here for a month or two, that’s not happening,” Chris sighed. “I can’t do that to you. I’ll be careful, and I’ll protect you. If you need any help, contact me. Seriously, what am I here for if not to be with you when you need someone?”

-

Two days later, Viktor made the decision to take time off work. Just a month tops. If Stephanie was right, he’d be fine by then; and whoever was out to get him would have gotten over it.

Despite his constant splurges, he’s actually saved up quite a lot of money—not enough to last him a lifetime, nor was it enough for a new start, but at least he wouldn’t go hungry if he went unemployed for two years. Add those to the watches and jewelries he’s been gifted and he can fly back to Russia and crawl back to his parents’ house.

But Viktor’s life wasn’t in Russia. He’s invested so much time in Michigan, spent his days with his best friend there, and learned life the hard way while he was at it. No, Michigan was his home, and there won’t be any other plans in the near future unless big, unavoidable changes come.

“ _Are you sure you don’t want me to get you a plane ticket to Oakland?_ _Maybe San Diego?_ ” Stephanie asked, her voice tight. “ _I thought you had some clients_ _living_ _in California?_ _That should keep you busy._ ”

“I really shouldn’t,” Viktor said. “And aren’t you proud of me for staying out of work until this thing ‘blows over’?”

“ _Doesn’t mean you’re not stepping outside for some fresh air_ ,” she said. “ _I know you, Alex. You don’t like to be cooped up_.”

Viktor chuckled. “I’m not doing anything stupid, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“ _Just don’t get drunk, okay? Please. And no, not even when you’re home. Who knows who you’re going to end up calling once you black out_.”

“I never make drunk calls, I’m told.”

“ _Yes, but we all have our bad days_ ,” she said. “ _I’ll call you tomorrow? Tell me if you’re going somewhere, alright?_ ”

“Okay.”

He ended the call and sighed. It was true that Viktor wasn’t the kind of person who liked to be cooped up, but he hadn’t gone anywhere for two days. The only other physical contact he had was when he quickly pulled Chris into the apartment and reprimand him about coming and going too often. Chris, of course, dismissed him with a “ _I heard something’s really good on Netflix_.”

Other than that, it was fairly quiet, if not a little depressing. He spent his days browsing through YouTube and replying to e-mails, ate when he felt like he needed to, and when he didn’t have anything else to do, he’d look out of the windows and count the number of people passing by.

You could say that he was being pathetic, and that things will probably pass before he knew it. No one’s come knocking on his door yet, so that seems like a good sign, right?

Maybe he should come out, just for a little bit.

He grabbed his phone and typed a short message; _Can I pick you up at work tonight? You don’t have to stay over._

A few moments later, Yuuri replied.

_Do you want me to stay over?_

Viktor smiled.

 _If it’s alright with you_ , Viktor typed. _I’ll drive you back home first thing in the morning._

Several hours later, Viktor picked Yuuri up from the bar and got them some take-out. Yuuri often forgot to eat when he’s busy, so Viktor made sure to remind him of that; he might have secretly made it his responsibility to, but Yuuri didn’t have to know that. Viktor really didn’t know if it was creepy for him to do that or not, so he’ll shut up about it.

“I know I’ve said this a lot but you really need to eat more,” Viktor said, bumping Yuuri’s knee with his own as they watched late night reruns in the living room. “Would it take that long to buy something from the cafeteria and just bring it to the library?”

“It is,” Yuuri said. “The lines are actually pretty long.”

“Oh. Packed lunch, then?”

Yuuri shook his head. “No time for it in the morning.”

Viktor wondered what it must have been if he had gone to university, too. Would he be as miserable as Yuuri? In all honesty, it was a thing Viktor hadn’t thought about in such a long time, his mind already set toward what’s only available for him to take.

“We better finish this up then,” Viktor smiled. “Can’t have you coming in late tomorrow.”

“Actually, I won’t be coming to class tomorrow,” Yuuri shrugged, looking a little too exhausted for it to be just the beginning of the week. He was poking at his food, Viktor noticed, and seemed a little hesitant when he spoke.

“Really? Why?”

Yuuri ran his fingers through his hair, a habit Viktor really liked watching him do. “Phichit’s having some problems with money lately, so he won’t be able to make rent until—well, he doesn’t know yet. he’ll be staying at our coach’s by the end of the month,” he said. “I’ll be looking for some place to stay tomorrow, probably.”

“You need help with it?” Viktor blurted out.

“No, you don’t have to,” he smiled, almost demurely. “I found some really cheap options. With roommates. If it’s terrible, I’ll know it’s temporary anyway. Maybe four months tops?”

“I still want to go with you,” Viktor tried, hoping he didn’t sound too clingy or eager. He really hasn’t been doing anything and had no plans for the next few weeks; a change of scenery might help him. “I don’t have work scheduled tomorrow. And I have a car, so...I mean, only if you want to.”

Yuuri munched on his food a bit, as if he was buying time. “Are you sure you don’t have work? I don’t want to bother you...”

“You won’t.”

“Fine. I mean, sure. You can come,” Yuuri nodded, picking up a piece of french fry and popping it into Viktor’s mouth. “Can you get up early, though?”

“Oh, baby,” Viktor snorted. “You underestimate me.”

-

As it turned out, Viktor hadn’t gotten up as early as he hoped. Which was fine, because then he turned it into an opportunity to ask for something to wake him up—i.e. a blowjob.

If it’s going to be like this for the rest of his life, he sure as hell will have to keep pretending he wasn’t awake.

They got ready for the day after showering. Viktor insisted he wanted a try at cooking breakfast, to which Yuuri was doubtful, and had ended up finishing it for him when he smelled the burnt sausages. From then on, Viktor was banned from ever touching the frying pan while Yuuri was around.

“I can’t believe you managed to survive on your own like this,” Yuuri muttered, setting the fire to low, then somewhat shaking the pan as the oil sizzled.

“I can tell you my secret.”

“What’s that?”

“Salads,” Viktor said. “Nothing can go wrong with good old salad.”

Yuuri groaned.

“Also, I have smoke detectors everywhere,” he said. “And well-maintained sprinklers. Chris’ suggestion.”

Viktor was by the counter, watching Yuuri do his thing with a frying pan. They were both barefoot, in Viktor’s clothes—which oddly enough, looked better on Yuuri than they did on Viktor. Or maybe it’s just his mind playing tricks on him again. Or his dick. Both could be true at this point.

“Any idea where we’re starting today?”

“There’s this three-bedroom apartment a few miles from school,” Yuuri hummed. “And then another one even further than that, but cheaper. I could move right in if I want to.”

“You haven’t found one with a single bedroom?”

“I mean, I would if I could afford it,” Yuuri shrugged. “But not right now, I guess. Besides, I’ll most likely stay in my room all day so I don’t think it matters where I go.”

“Doesn’t hurt to have tolerable roommates.”

“That’s the point of apartment hunting, Viktor,” Yuuri chuckled, moving on to his next batch of sausages. “Maybe I’ll move out after two months if I’m really not comfortable, but right now, I just need somewhere to stay.”

“Can’t you and Phichit stay at your coach’s? He won’t mind, right?”

If Viktor sounded a little desperate there, it’s because he _was_. It’s one thing to move in with people you barely knew, let alone imagining someone you cared about moving in with a possible douche or serial killer or both.

“Celestino only has one spare room. Taking Phichit in is a lot since he won’t be able to afford utilities and stuff,” Yuuri said. “Besides, I’m graduating soon, so I think it’s about time I tried looking for apartments myself.”

Viktor couldn’t help but frown. “Fine, but before you move in, I want to see what it looks like. And what your roommates look like.”

“Why?”

Why, indeed.

“Because I had my fair share of shitty roommates, Yuuri. Trust me,” he threw his head back, leaning on the counter. “You really lucked out on Phichit, you know that?”

“He likes to remind me, yes,” Yuuri said. “Breakfast?”

Breakfast was slow, fun, and generally entertaining. Viktor had amused the both of them by sharing funny stories of his childhood in Russia, how it was like to be a boy with long hair, and how his schoolmates took it. They didn’t judge him too much, by the way, since pretty people always got away with anything.

Yuuri talked about past late-night runs to the nearest convenience store, what it was like to room with Phichit, and the horrors of freshman dorms. The guy Yuuri roomed with at the student dorms was at his girlfriend’s most nights, so they didn’t exactly hit it off.

All the while Viktor kept thinking how lucky it was that the said roommate didn’t exactly get to know Yuuri, otherwise he’d be in the same inescapable hole as Viktor. Maybe if the said roommate made a move, Viktor wouldn’t be so lucky to have Yuuri in his apartment, eating breakfast and sharing childhood stories like they’ve known each other for years.

“You know, I did get an acceptance letter to Wayne State,” Viktor said. “I don’t think that really matters now, though. We wouldn’t have met anyway.”

And they wouldn’t have met if Viktor wasn’t doing his job that one night. But they weren’t going to talk about that. Not yet.

“Really?” Yuuri’s eyes grew wide, just a little bit. “What were you going to major in?”

“Sociology,” Viktor laughed, just the thought of it was ridiculous to him. He wouldn’t have lasted a semester. “I applied to a bunch of schools and ended up getting accepted to Wayne. To be honest, I forgot which degree I applied for until I got the letter.”

“Everyone has different reasons for why they are in school—or aren’t,” Yuuri said. “I guess you really didn’t want to go to university, huh?”

“Nope,” Viktor said. “My mother’s a Sociology professor back home, so maybe that’s where it came from. I think I applied for Chemical Engineering at one point. I’m not really sure.”

“You don’t like science or maths?”

“I’m better at maths than social sciences,” Viktor said. “My parents sent me out here. They told me to apply for student loans and said I’d be able to pay it off eventually. After finding a proper job.”

Nothing ever barred anyone from going or doing anything they wanted, so Viktor figured he wouldn’t need to go to school for that.

At ten, Viktor drove Yuuri to the first apartment he was checking out. It was definitely better than the one Yuuri and Phichit stayed in, with newly-applied wallpaper and shiny kitchen counters. One of the guys staying there was about Phichit’s age, awkward and a little shy, but welcomed them through his stuttering.

“It’s a nice place,” Yuuri said, marvelling at the potted plants near the windows.

Something told Viktor that Yuuri’s potential roommate was the kind of person who wouldn’t socialize much, most likely make awkward smalltalk before fleeing to his next class, but at least he was kind and clean. The worst of all roommates were the filthy ones. Viktor actually liked him, but the worried look on Yuuri’s face told him it wouldn’t be so easy.

“We could make arrangements with the landlord if you’re ready to take it,” the guy showing them the apartment said, hands shoved inside the pockets of his jeans. “You’ll have to tell me at least three days before moving in, though. He’s usually not home until it’s late. I’ll talk to him for you.”

They thanked the poor man and went outside, Yuuri still looking rather contemplative.

“It’s a nice place,” Viktor said. “Close to campus, too.”

Yuuri bit his lip and sighed, sinking further into the passenger seat. “I know. I don’t think I can afford that much in a month, though. I mean, I can probably save a little on food and transportation, but...”

“You can’t exactly negotiate utilities.”

“Yeah.”

Viktor bit his lip and tapped the steering wheel. Well, at least it’s still an option when nothing else comes through. Maybe Viktor could offer some help if he worded it out carefully?

“Do you want to check the next place?”

“The guy said to come after lunch,” Yuuri said, checking his watch. “Know a place we could go?”

As the afternoon dragged on, things didn’t get any better for Yuuri. The next one they visited was so out of the way that Yuuri would have to walk down a few streets to get to a bus station. Considering the bus schedules, he would have to be up at five in the morning, won’t have time to change clothes before timing in at the bar, and would have to walk back from work. It would be tedious and sleepless, but it was a whole lot cheaper then most apartments.

Viktor wasn’t too sold on it, especially because Yuuri was already losing so much sleep, but he didn’t say anything about it at first.

As soon as they stepped inside the said unit, though, Viktor had the urge to pull Yuuri away and never come back. It was dingy, with paint peeling off the walls and random video game posters all over the place. Someone was asleep in front of the old television, the kitchen sink and counters were covered in unwashed dishes, and part of the lint-covered carpet was torn off.

It also smelled like burnt heroine.

“So, this is the place,” some guy who apparently wasn’t too appalled to have been living there showed them inside, grinning at them with cocaine-fuelled eyes. “The guy who used to have that room upstairs just up and left for some reason and never came back. We’re all pretty cool here if you move in today, by the way. We’ll even help with your stuff.”

And imagine the _nerve_ of this guy, when he winked at Yuuri shamelessly.

Yuuri seemed rather intimidated for a second, before he cleared his throat and asked, “so there’s three of you here?”

“Yeah. Sean over there’s got a girlfriend, so they share a room,” Cokehead said, gesturing toward the guy drooling all over the couch. His eyes moved to the side, eyebrows rising, and then he jerked his chin toward Viktor. “You’re moving in with your boyfriend? Sorry, sweetheart. The lease’s only good for one person over here.”

“Ah, no,” Yuuri shook his head. “He’s just helping me look for apartments today.”

“ _Oh_...so, single? Open relationship? I can run with that,” Cokehead laughed in the attempt to make it sound like he was just joking, but Viktor was no idiot. He knew what a man looked like when he wanted something from him—and yes, even the drugged up ones.

Viktor managed a grin, hand coming up to Yuuri’s waist, pulling him closer than it was necessary. “It’s not an open relationship, no, but we’ll call you when we change our minds,” he said, his voice a lot sharper than he meant for it to come out, but oh well. “We’ll contact you if he decides to move in, yes? We have some things to attend to.”

Cokehead raised his hands and waved them obnoxiously. “Alright, lover boy,” he said. “Take care, you two.”

By the time Viktor’s ushered Yuuri into his car and made his way to the driver’s seat, he started the engine like he meant to run away from something.

“We’re looking for someplace else,” he said, backing out of the driveway, feeling a little too stiff for comfort.

“You know I can’t pay for the first one.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Viktor said, looking straight ahead, thinking about the nearest street that had residential apartments for rent. “We’re looking for someplace else or you’re going to have to sleep an hour a day. I don’t know if that means anything to you, Yuuri, but that will burn you out eventually.”

“Hey.”

He started to drive toward a the general direction of condo units, ones that could easily be shared. Wait, that wasn’t a good idea, was it? So he turned to another street, heading for the student housings, which were technically apartments that had curfews.

“Viktor...” Yuuri’s hand grasped Viktor’s wrist, firmly.

He hadn’t noticed he was driving too fast.

“Listen,” Viktor sighed, stepping on the brakes. He pulled over, just behind a parked car in front of some random shop, and allowed himself to gather his thoughts. “I know I don’t have a say in what you want to do—or where you want to stay, but I don’t want you to make decisions just because it’s the only available option. We can look for more, and it will be alright, and it will be better. I don’t want you living with crackheads and eventually get poisoned from heroine, I just—”

He stopped before he could say more. Viktor was babbling. To even make things worse, he knew for a fact that he didn’t have a say in any of it—Yuuri needed to go apartment hunting and Viktor insisted that he wanted to come. He wasn’t invited to be there until he offered to drive them around. He didn’t even know about Yuuri’s dilemma until the night before.

If you went with the textbook definition of it, yes, they were dating—they went out on dates, saw each other fairly often, and spent some time with each other. They were intimate in a sense that they already had sex, but not quite as far as they trusted each other with their secrets.

Based on what Viktor knew about dating, it was that there has to be something of a beginning and an end to it—i.e. until when are they supposed to stop seeing other people, or when was it right for one person to have a say in another’s decision.

Easy. It was textbook.

He had no right in Yuuri’s decisions, and it was understandable if Yuuri didn’t listen to him.

“Hey, I haven’t decided yet. You know that, right?” Yuuri‘s hand still on Viktor’s wrist, his touch warm and familiar. “And I’ve seen it myself, Viktor. It’s really bad. It’s only an option when it’s too late and I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Viktor bit his lip, afraid that he might say something he’s going to regret.

“Do you know where else we could go?” Yuuri asked. “You want me to look at it?”

By the end of the day, Viktor had taken Yuuri to five different apartments, all done through last-minute calls and a few persuasive conversations. They avoided the obviously expensive ones that lined up the streets closest to malls and schools, made sure that the places they went to were both convenient if ever Yuuri needed to walk to and fro school or work, and of course, checked for any signs of crackheads hiding in the available units.

It wasn’t easy to meet those goals, Viktor realised, and was now struggling to hide his disappointment as he poured himself a glass of water in his apartment. Yuuri was seated on the couch, surfing through channels mindlessly, deep in thought.

“Hey,” Viktor walked toward the couch and sat beside him. “I can come with you on Saturday. Or any day for that matter.”

“I don’t want to bother you...”

“I’ve taken time off work,” Viktor admitted. “About a month. Remember when I was so stressed out? Chris thinks I’m having a breakdown and demanded I keep off my planner for once.”

“Oh, I—” Yuuri looked like he didn’t know what to say; which was understandable. What do you say to something like that? “I’m sure you’ll recover soon, I guess.”

“I told you, getting burnt out is the worst thing.”

“Second only to being homeless, I suppose,” Yuuri said. He dropped the remote on the coffee table, tucking his legs under him. “Ah, I still have work tonight.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Viktor—”

“ _Zolotse_ , you’re tired and stressed out. Let me call your boss and I’ll send him some expensive wine a client gave me two months ago,” Viktor’s voice hitched, feeling the pressure of yet again walking the thin line between his personal life and his job. At least he wasn’t lying. “Please, you need to rest.”

“I can handle it, Viktor.”

Yuuri’s voice had a sudden change in tone, almost a little annoyed. If that hadn’t been a sign enough, his face completely gave it away; which had now formed into slight scowl.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, just...” Yuuri huffed. “I can handle it, alright? I’m okay. If I kept depending on you to call my boss whenever I’m tired, I might get used to it.”

Dammit.

Viktor didn’t know what to say.

He knew he stepped over a line, and he knew he went a little too far, but he hadn’t noticed he was doing it until it was too late. How was it possible for someone to be so bad at this? It couldn’t just be him, right?

Viktor was about to apologise again, when Yuuri’s expression softened.

“I appreciate that you care about me, I really do,” Yuuri said, reaching over to lace his fingers with Viktor’s. “But I’m not going to act like I don’t have a job or schoolwork just because I’m in the middle of solving my own personal crisis. I’ll be fine once I found a place to stay, alright? And you’re going to help me, so I’m thankful for that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said. “And as much as I enjoy your company, I still need to shower and dress for work.”

Viktor held a little tighter. “Let me drive you at least. To your apartment and then work.”

It’s not like he had anything else to do, he thought, but he didn’t say it out loud.

“Okay,” Yuuri said. “If you insist.”

-

A week after the recent mess Viktor was in, he was finally beginning to relax. It wasn’t so much that he wasn’t worrying, as it was that he sometimes forgot about it, but he’d take anything he could. He’d be in his room all day, mindlessly browsing through the internet or take naps that confused him after he woke up.

Yuuri was mostly in school or at work, so he couldn’t text him as much as he liked. As for Chris, he gave up on lecturing him about coming to see Viktor and instead watched movies with him.

It was a slow, mind-numbing week that would surely send him into madness had it gone on.

But it was a Friday night, Yuuri was going to be done working at three, and Viktor was going to pick him up. He’s already asked him about it, just to make sure Phichit knew where Yuuri was going.

“Isn’t he mad?” Viktor asked. “That you’re not spending your weekends together?”

“He’s alright,” Yuuri said, securing his seatbelt. “Phichit actually thinks it’s about time I started seeing someone, so...”

He couldn’t help but smile. “So, you technically aren’t single anymore?”

“Maybe.”

“Do I count as ‘someone you’re dating’?”

This time, Yuuri turned red. “Maybe.”

“I’m flattered.”

Viktor started the car and began to drive away. He wanted to ask something else; it was bothering him a lot lately, more so because he had so much time on his hands. There was nothing else to do other than to _think_.

“Yuuri, can I ask you something?”

“Hmmm?”

“How do I introduce you to people?” Viktor asked, his cheeks suddenly warm. He was thankful for the fact that he was driving, which meant he had an excuse not to look at Yuuri directly. “Do I call you my boyfriend?”

The silence that followed made Viktor’s heart drop.

Oh.

He’d done it, hadn’t he? He stepped too far? Was he plummeting so deep down?

Hitting the breaks, Viktor felt himself being thrown forwards, the sudden stop jolting his mind even further. He looked at Yuuri then, extremely nervous and just about ready to explode, and then—

Yuuri looked like he was panicking.

Oh no.

“I didn’t mean to—to spring this up on you or anything like that! You don’t have to answer that right now,” Viktor stammered. “You can choose to ignore that, or maybe just tell me tomorrow, or just—”

Great. Just great. Their evening (early morning) was turning out really fine.

 _Jesus_.

Yuuri looked up at Viktor, the green glare of the traffic lights reflecting against his glasses. He was so beautiful that it almost hurt to look at him, even more so when Viktor was just about to be rejected in the midst of trying to recover.

Was Viktor’s brain going into haywire? Is that what it was?

“Okay.”

Viktor shook his head, and blinked. “Huh?”

“You can call yourself my boyfriend, Viktor,” Yuuri said. “If you’ll let me.”

A second passed.

Another.

And another.

Viktor’s mouth fell open, his chest finally exploding. He honestly didn’t know what to say, but he did know what his instincts told him; which was to lean over and plant a kiss on Yuuri’s lips. There was no way in hell that he could describe what he felt in that moment, for he wasn’t coherent enough to even process things properly.

All he knew, was that for the first time, Yuuri acknowledged what it was that’s between them. For the first time since they’ve known each other, there was something to call what they were. He honestly thought he didn’t need those labels, but boy was he wrong.

“Drive thru?” Viktor asked, kissing Yuuri’s nose and cheek before pulling back.

“Sounds like a good idea,” Yuuri laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think in the comments?
> 
> Also, say hi or send prompts on Tumblr! HMU [@anna-domini](https://anna-domini.tumblr.com/)


	5. To Make Compromises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor learns many things throughout the time he's taken a break from work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so late. But enrollment period's a bitch, so I'm really sorry.

When Viktor’s phone went down, many of his clients expressed their concerns. Most of them wanted to know whether he was quitting, caught a disease, or both. He was quick to reassure them that no, he wasn’t quitting, hadn’t contracted anything, and would gladly send them his official STI results if they wanted to request it.

They probably would have already gone on to have themselves checked at that point, though. It really was uncharacteristic of him to just suddenly stop working like that, so it would be understandable if some of his clients suddenly contemplated the strength capacity of Trojan condoms.

His reasons for the sudden break was carefully thought out and forwarded to each one of them, too; varying ways of saying he was taking a month off from work for a well-deserved vacation. There were people who still kept asking him—raised prices, asked him to _name_ the price, promised him things and all that—but he simply wasn’t ready.

Not when Stephanie hasn’t come back to him with a report on the Dunhams yet.

However, he found himself breaking that rule when Barb called him one night. She didn’t ask about his reasons for abandoning his phone number or why he suddenly went off on a break, but instead expressed genuine worry that he might have overworked himself. Barb sounded so relieved when he got back to her that he couldn’t help but smile a little.

And since he liked her far too much, he did come to her when she asked him to, even brought food and a box of chocolates that she liked. It was still work, sure, but he would gladly bring her something nice regardless of the money she wired to him earlier that day.

“You look like you haven’t slept,” she said to him, frowning a little, as they were eating. She prepared some food for them, albeit more healthy than the usual stuff they ate. “Makes me wonder how much you’ve been working.”

“Do I? Look like I haven’t slept?”

She snorted. “Honey, you always come to me looking impeccable. So when you look the least bit tired, I’ll notice.”

Hah.

“I know it’s not my business, but when you told me you were taking three appointments a night, I honestly expected you to crash eventually,” she said. “Take care of yourself, Anatoly. It’s not good for you or the people who care about you.”

It was not only nice of Barb to think that of him, but it was also nice to know that at that point, she was looking at Viktor as a human being outside of his job. That beyond Anatoly Petrishchev, was probably some other man with other people in his life.

Speaking of the people who cared, Viktor’s eyes went to a vase of tulips on the kitchen counter. They were red this time, fresh and yet to bloom.

He gestured at the said tulips and smiled. “Speaking of, will you ever tell me their name?”

For a while, there was a pause, the sounds of cutlery against expensive porcelain being the only sound in the room. But as the moments passed, Viktor began to see the smile form on Barb’s face.

“Will,” she said, gazing at the flowers with fond eyes. “He has two sons and a daughter. Works as freelance 3D artist when he isn’t a local architect.”

It’s fairly new, she told Viktor. They haven’t made plans, had no strict commitments, and didn’t need to see each other every day. They didn’t have to tell each other everything they did and wherever they went. It was the beginning of a relationship, she said, and still wouldn’t be too painful if they decided they wouldn’t work out.

She’s met his kids, though, and they were lovely.

Viktor didn’t mention how strange it would be to go so far as to introduce someone to your family and not call it an official relationship. People have different views on labels, he guessed; but he wouldn’t have known how it could’ve gone if Yuuri hadn’t spelled it out for him. Maybe Viktor was just a noob at this thing. Maybe he just got left out when everyone else was dating and he was working.

“I’ve always wanted children, you know,” she told him. “But I don’t think I’d be a great mother. Maybe I’m too old. Maybe I missed my chance with my first husband.”

“Oh, Barb,” Viktor reached over to take her hand, coarse from working hours a day. With no husband or children to come home to, it seemed reasonable focused on her career. “You’re caring and compassionate and understanding. You’ll probably spoil them, but that’s not something people get to do all the time. They’ll be lucky to have you as their mom.”

They often talked about having kids—mostly a hypothetical question of whether it was something they would personally want when the time comes—but it was Barb who loved the idea most of all. It was understandable how Viktor still didn’t know what to feel about it, because he was young and unattached. Barb, however, thought of it like a great dream. A goal.

Viktor often wondered if he’ll ever come to that conclusion. If he’s met the right person that will make him want to start a family with.

Was that a weird thing to think about?

With so many things in his life that were temporary, it was only smart that he didn’t hold unto anything...Right?

Not yet, anyway.

Barb leaned forward, eyes on Viktor, and smiled. Rather slyly, to be clear. “And how about you? You told me you’ll do your part if I spill.”

He laughed.

If this were a conversation he was having two weeks ago, or if it were at a time that disaster of a dinner hadn’t happened, he might have not considered saying anything. Not at all, and without a doubt. He would have either lied, or downplay the whole situation. He would have redirected the conversation toward Barb with practiced ease.

Viktor, after all, was great at diverting the conversation topic away from his personal life.

But Barb was the sweetest human being he knew and Viktor was at a place where his emotions were terribly confusing. It wouldn’t hurt to tell her the things he was thinking about, right?

Maybe it would be good for him, too.

“A few weeks ago, I lied when I told you I haven’t met someone,” Viktor said, taking a deep breath, willing his nerves to calm down. He was not Anatoly anymore, not in that moment, and wondered still if that was such a good idea. “I did, and he is wonderful.”

Barb’s eyes grew wide, and then they became fond. She has the kindest eyes, Viktor thought, and Will was a lucky man. “Well, how did it go?”

“I think—I think he’s my boyfriend now?” Viktor stuttered, his throat hitching suddenly. He knew he sounded like an idiot, and cursed himself internally for it. “I mean, he _is_ my boyfriend. We’ve established that, I think.”

She nodded, still smiling.

“Can I be honest with you, Barb?”

_For once_ , he thought. But he didn’t say it out loud.

“I’m actually on a break from work. This whole month. I came because I wanted to see you, and I know we don’t really...well...” He made wild gestures with his hands. “How do I put this—”

“We don’t have sex,” she supplied.

“Yes,” Viktor sighed. “That’s why I wanted to see you.”

Barb nodded. “Alright. Did you want to tell me something?”

He looked up to see her watching him, anticipating an answer. Viktor felt hesitation creep through him, treacherous and sly.

“There are things that we should allow ourselves to say out loud, you know,” Barb said, eyes cast down and voice low, though still very gentle. “And how I normally see it, is that it’s easier to tell people who barely know us. Because then, we wouldn’t feel too badly about them looking at us differently.”

“Like a church confessional?”

A smile formed on Barb’s face, lovely and comforting. “Exactly.”

He could easily pull off a line and say, “ _you’re not a stranger to me_ ”, but that would be incredibly untrue. That was something Anatoly would say, because it’d make his client feel better. It would redirect the conversation toward someone else, and he could sit there and listen without revealing anything. Viktor saw Barb as a friend, but he was also aware of how little information he has given her through the years.

And so he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let it out. “I’m scared, Barb.”

From where she sat, just across him, Barb studied Viktor. Her jaw worked, eyes ever so slightly squinting, lips tight—she was figuring something out.

It was weird, their friendship. They trusted each other but not with everything. They knew each other so well, but yet to know more at the same time.

For example, without prompting, she said, “And you haven’t told him, have you?”

Viktor wanted to put his face in his plate of beans.

“Why?”

There’s that question again.

_Why_ , indeed.

“You already know the answer to that.”

She looked surprised. Genuinely surprised. “I don’t know the answer to that.”

Goddammit.

“Christ, how could you not know?” he huffed out in frustration. “I’m afraid he’d feel _disgusted_ , Barb. What if he asked me about how many people I’ve slept with? Or if I had clients who had wives or husbands? Or worse, what if he decides to keep me, but under the condition that I give him my STD results twice a month?”

Silence.

And then, his thoughts supplied the rest for him.

_Damn_.

Viktor did not realise the weight of what he had just said before it was too late. He had never, ever felt so insecure about what he did, about who he was as a person. There’s never really been a concern of feeling unwanted because people have always wantedhim—enough that they _paid_ him to be with them. Enough that they would even go so far as to insist that they see him when he’s being unsure about it.

For the first time, it felt as if he was unworthy; like there’s something he had to choose over the other when he didn’t want to choose at all. And a strangest of all things is that Viktor still wondered if that were a bad thing, if he was supposed to feel this way but never did before.

Barb clasped his hand tighter, his attention suddenly drawn toward it. It was a good distraction, but not enough.

“Oh, sweetie,” she ran her thumb across the back of his palm. “I already told you what I think. If they can’t accept you for who you are, then they don’t deserve you.”

He groaned. “Not as easy as it sounds.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“What?”

She chuckled. “I can see you thinking. What’s it about?”

“What if I quit?” he said. “What if I never had to tell him anything and then we’ll live our lives as usual? Is that possible? I can find a new job.”

Barb’s smile faded a tad bit, eyes sympathetic.

“Is that what you want to do?”

Here’s the thing, Viktor treated his job much like everyone else who had a job. It paid well, he’s good at it, and he didn’t really mind when people think less of him for it. He always thought that it didn’t matter what others said, because he never really thought of himself as any less of a person because of it.

“You know what,” she smiled. “Listening to you talk about him makes me think that you are really serious about this. And for someone like you to like him _this_ much, Anatoly? I’m sure he is kind and lovely.”

“He is.”

“And I already told you, you’re not a bad judge of character either. You deal with different people. You know how to read them like no one else can. You know who’s revolting and who’s not,” she said. “Do you think I’m revolting?”

Viktor frowned. “No.”

“There you go,” she laughed. “If you think he’s worth it, if you care about his opinion of you, then I suppose he’s someone who really deserves you.”

“Can we just agree that he doesn’t deserve me, Barb? He deserves better,” Viktor said. “But he is lovely. And kind. And I do care about what he thinks of me.”

“So why don’t you trust him more?”

Viktor looked up, thinking.

He saw a small indents on the wall, where screws used to be, and below them were tell-tale signs of a framed photograph that was no longer there.

It’s where the photo of Barb’s wedding day used to be.

From what he knew, Barb trusted her husband for years, but their marriage fell apart once they began digging up the most irrelevant things of the past. They fought over the smallest issues, brought up what she did back when they were teenagers and made it seem like it still had repercussions to their present lives.

If that alone could ruin a marriage of ten years, then what can Viktor do?

“I told you, I don’t know,” he sighed. “I guess I don’t want to lose him. I keep thinking that it’s better I didn’t risk it.”

Wow.

Now that he’s said it out loud, he _did_ sound pathetic.

God.

“I wish I could help you more,” Barb sighed. “I can’t make decisions for you because I don’t know the whole story, but you wouldn’t be so frustrated about these things if you didn’t want to keep him around.”

“You don’t have to, Barb,” he said. “I just really appreciate you listening to me.”

Barb got up, went over to his side, and embraced him. “Whatever your decision, I will support you. But think it over, yeah? You can always call me if you need any help.”

Much later that night, when he was finally home, he opened his phone to wire money back into Barb’s account. He was the one who needed her, so it was only right that he didn’t take payment for it.

-

The thing about taking a whole month off from stringent work, is that you’re bound to get restless at some point. Imagine working day and night and then suddenly having all that stop, leaving you with nothing to do but think of creative ways to amuse yourself.

Now that would have been much easier if Viktor hadn’t been ordered to keep a low profile.

He’s given up coming to the gym and has now decided on yoga of all things, he had most of his groceries delivered to his door, and did all of his utility payments via credit card. Chris still visited him very often, Viktor still picked up Yuuri from work, but he still had so much time he didn’t know what to do with.

The other concern that he was having was that he couldn’t exactly take Yuuri on proper dates anymore. Stephanie knew Viktor was stubborn enough to still be walking around, but she trusted him not to get shit-faced at a club or dine at a fancy restaurant where some people might recognise him.

So if doing any form of public socialising was off the table, what did that leave him?

Staying in his apartment watching Netflix, of course.

The only sexy thing about it was the actual sex that came with Yuuri staying over, but with so many deadlines at school, they’ve both been holding back from it lately.

Viktor started feeling so bad at some point that he apologised to Yuuri because of it.

“What do you mean?” Yuuri had asked.

Viktor would then notice his mistake, because how was he going to answer that? He couldn’t just go on and tell him, ‘ _sorry, someone might be hunting me down for reasons I’m not brave enough to tell you yet_ ’. Definitely not an appropriate response if you ask him.

“That I haven’t been taking you to proper dates,” Viktor managed to say. A good save, no matter how strange it might have sounded. “I’m apologising for not being a proper boyfriend.”

Well, isn’t that smooth?

Yuuri, however, looked at him like none of it actually made any sense. “That’s not—I wasn’t really thinking about that.”

“Oh,” Viktor muttered, almost to himself.

“You know what? Let me finish this part and I’m taking a break.”

Yuuri was sifting through his schoolwork on Viktor’s coffee table, seated on the floor, and tapping away at his laptop.

It was a Thursday morning (very early morning). Viktor had whined about missing him so much, so Yuuri caved and brought clothes and all the things he needed to write his paper. Miraculously, Viktor hadn’t bothered him at all; except maybe bring him tea when he looked like he was about to fall asleep. While Yuuri worked, he was streaming movies on his laptop and wore headphones so he didn’t distract his boyfriend. He waited for Yuuri to take a break, which had turned out to be an hour later.

Not that Viktor was complaining, but the sun would be up in a few, and Yuuri would have to come to class in two hours.

“Hey.”

Viktor looked up to see Yuuri standing in front of him, the large bags under his eyes more prominent, but an adorable dopey smile on his face.Immediately setting his laptop aside, Viktor moved to accommodate Yuuri so he could straddle him on the couch.

They kiss, but without the usual intensity. It was far gentler, more relaxed, like the ones they shared when they woke up in the mornings.

“You really didn’t have to stay up with me, you know.”

“I wasn’t doing much yesterday,” Viktor nuzzled his neck, eyes closed. He adored everything about Yuuri, even the way he smelled. Sometimes Viktor wondered if that was a weird thing, but he didn’t care. As long as Yuuri allowed him, he’d do and think as he pleased. “I was sleeping the whole afternoon and now my body clock’s screwed up.”

“Hmm-mmm.”

“You should sleep,” Viktor said, running a hand up and down Yuuri’s leg. “An hour is better than nothing.”

Yuuri groaned. “But what if I don’t wake up?”

“I’ll wake you up,” he said. “Besides, I live closer to your school. I’ll drive you.”

“Viktor...”

“ _Zolotse_ , I told you,” he shook his head. “I’ve been sleeping in the afternoon. I am not sleepy right now. Not at all. Come to bed and I’ll wake you in an hour, please.”

Yuuri pouted at him. He would have done anything for that.

But Viktor could tell that Yuuri has gone way beyond his limits at that point. It wouldn’t be so bad for him to save what little energy he could if he still wanted.

“I shall not be swayed by how adorable you are, you monster,” Viktor proclaimed, poking the tip of Yuuri’s nose. “I’ll make sure to make you coffee later. Come on.”

After a little convincing, he managed to pull Yuuri into the bedroom. Viktor wondered how much willpower Yuuri had to have to keep himself awake, because he _did_ fall asleep soon after he hit the bed. Trying to get up was going to be a bitch, let alone for him to try and stay awake the whole day, but Viktor learned how much Yuuri didn’t like it when he skipped school.

“ _Compromise is one of the first steps to starting a relationship,_ Cheri,” Chris told him once. Which made sense in theory but could be done a million different ways in practice.

While Yuuri slept, Viktor rummaged through his kitchen in search for something to cook. Yuuri had already warned him about it, but it wouldn’t stop Viktor from trying. Besides, now that he’s found some eggs and a box of pancake mix, he didn’t have to worry about the smoke alarm system going off every ten minutes.

About an hour later, he went to get Yuuri. He shook him awake and led him to the bathroom, grumbling and all,plated their breakfast, made extra strong coffee, and turned the TV on.

Viktor found out that nothing woke him up better than hearing the morning news. There’s something about it that made you realise that the world was finally awake, and it’s only right you moved your ass as well. He couldn’t say for sure if this was going to work with Yuuri, but he’d give it a try.

“What’s for breakfast?”

Speaking of, Yuuri came out a few minutes later. Already dressed for school, he was blinking at Viktor as he wiped his glasses with the hem of his shirt.

“Mediocre pancakes and coffee,” Viktor said, pulling out a chair for him.

Imagine the relief he felt when he saw Yuuri’s look of approval. Considering the sorry state he was in, his judgement might be clouded, but Viktor could pretend. At least there were some things he was allowed to cook now.

“You have the best-smelling syrup,” Yuuri hummed as he took the first bite. “You really have to tell me where you got these.”

“Online.”

“ _Wow_.”

“I’m waiting for you to tell me that the only thing good about the food today is the syrup.”

Yuuri shrugged. “All pancakes are nothing without the syrup.”

“Any kind?”

“Any kind.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better or?”

They bantered a little, though their pace a little slow. Yuuri still seemed a little distracted, his movements sleepy and tired; an understandable result to what heroic feat he just pulled hours ago. Amazing as he thought that was, Viktor still stood by the fact that it was not something anyone should ever have to go through.

“Hey,” Viktor said. “I know you already told me to stop, but do you have free time or something? You really look like you need some more sleep.”

It took a while before Yuuri could reply. His eyes drooped, puffy. He seemed oddly pale as well. “I was thinking of coming to my morning classes. We have a quiz I can’t miss, but maybe I could skip the afternoon, sleep, then go to work.”

So a full day’s rest was still non-negotiable. Figures.

“I’ll come pick you up at lunch?” Viktor offered, looking toward the stack of books on the coffee table. “You can’t possibly bring all that to school.”

“You’re not going anywhere?”

Funny.

“Nope.”

“Okay,” Yuuri said, rubbing at his eyes. “Just make sure you’re not asleep?”

He found it ridiculous that Yuuri even thought about Viktor possibly missing out on that opportunity.

“What are you talking about?” Viktor scoffed. “Of course, I’ll be there, silly.”

Oh, no. If Viktor couldn’t take his boyfriend to a proper date, he might as well spoil him with all the other things boyfriends did (If his idea of what boyfriends did were right). So if Yuuri was expecting him for lunch, you bet Viktor would be wide awake until then.

-

Driving by school campuses did things to Viktor. He always thought it to be irrational, but it didn’t stop him from thinking about it.

Sometimes, he’ll pass by a few college kids and think about what it’d be like if he went down that road. Butthen he’ll see waitresses or bartenders like Yuuri, who struggle to make rent on top of schoolwork, and second-guess his previous thoughts on it.

It’s forever going to be one of those mysteries, he supposed. Therewill always be things in life that you don’t really get to experience, and for Viktor, going to college was one of them.

He was parked in front of the huge university building, it’s walls frankly intimidating; even for him. He watched as students pour out of the front doors, carrying backpacks of unreasonable sizes, some looking sleep deprived. He remembered what Yuuri had said about how teachers were more likely to be unforgiving when it got closer to Christmas break, so maybe everyone else was suffering the same way.

Yuuri came around just a few minutes later, Phichit in toll.

“Hey,” he said, as Viktor opened the doors for him.

“Hello,” Viktor smiled, then nodded at Phichit. “Hi Phichit!”

Phichit waved enthusiastically. “Gotta drop him off. That’s what the best man does, right?”

Yuuri rolled his eyes.

“Drop off? I’ll drive you, come on,” Viktor said, jerking his chin toward the backseat.

Phichit hesitantly rode with them, muttering something about how he hated being the third wheel. Viktor reassured him that no, he had no plans of ravishing his boyfriend in the backseat of a car, much to Yuuri’s horror.

“So are you getting changed before coming to work? I could come up our place and get your stuff,” Phichit said midway through a conversation about his pet hamsters. There were also signs of stress on Phichit’s face; he seemed a little paler, thinner than Viktor last saw him.

“What do you mean?” Yuuri asked, scrolling through his phone.

“I mean, you have your books in Viktor’s apartment, right? And you said you wanted to get some stuff done before coming to work,” Phichit said. “You might as well take your nap there—” he paused. “—and when I say take a nap, I mean take a _nap_. You need it.” He glared at Viktor. “You, hands-off.”

Viktor snorted. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Oh no, I might be single now, but I know how hormones work. New couples are more likely to breed like rabbits,” Phichit held up a hand to cut Yuuri off before he could say anything in reply. “You know I won’t feel bad if you steal him from today until Sunday, right?”

“Phichit!”

“Hey, Viktor,” Phichit ignored his roommate. “Maybe it’s time you bought him a toothbrush.”

“I swear to God—”

“Unless you share one—I mean, I don’t judge, but that’s really disgusting.”

The conversation went on with Yuuri desperately trying to shut Phichit up and Viktor just listening in. Unlike him and Chris, Yuuri and Phichit’s dynamic had a different feel to it. He didn’t know that many people outside of work, so it was a refreshing way to look at things.

They were a little...how would he describe it? Happier? Lighter? Maybe it’s just Phichit and Yuuri’s personalities, but Viktor would love it if he weren’t brooding all the time. Chris was also the kind of person who got constantly stressed over what food he was being restricted to eat and which new figure skater was insanely hot, so that really wasn’t helping them.

“We’re here,” Viktor said, pulling up in front of Yuuri and Phichit’s apartment building.

Without ceremony, Phichit stepped out of the car, saying, “I’ll go grab his weekend bag.”

He disappeared before Yuuri could register all of it.

Viktor counted.

One.

Two.

Three.

“Phichit!”

_Here we go_.

Yuuri bolted out the of car without looking back, running for the front door. Viktor had a small smile on his face just by thinking about it, and he’s probably going to remember that look on Yuuri’s face forever.

Minutes later, with Viktor’s car door still open, Yuuri came back out with a duffel in hand.

“Going somewhere?” Viktor asked, as he reached over to take the bag and deposit it into the backseat.

Yuuri looked annoyed, but he was not at all flustered or shy like he normally would have been. “He locked me out of my own room,” he grumbled. “Went to pack my stuff for me, then threw the duffel at me.”

Viktor laughed. “I like him.”

“He didn’t come out of my room until I was out the front door. I got kicked out of my own apartment.”

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t want to spend your weekend with me,” he pouted, changed gears, and started driving. “You’re not _that_ opposed to the idea, at least?”

Yuuri hummed. “I’ll think about it.”

“I can’t believe you,” Viktor gasped. “I thought we had something special, Yuuri Katsuki.”

“Sure,” Yuuri said. “I’ll get back to you after I sleep.”

Viktor’s nose scrunched up. “Oh, no. We are not skipping lunch. Not on my watch.”

He was responded by a groan.

A very, very tired groan.

“Hey, listen to me,” Viktor raised a finger, wiggling it in Yuuri’s general direction, eyes still on the road. “The less food you have in you, the more likely you’re going to crash in the middle of your shift. We don’t want that, do we? Isn’t that paper of yours due tomorrow?”

A pause.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Viktor teased.

Again, a drive thru wasn’t going to make him _Boyfriend of the Year_ , but it would be enough to get something for Yuuri before he started whining about going to sleep. It wasn’t like he was in any shape to sit anywhere and not snore midway through a conversation, much less waiting in a restaurant, so Viktor figured it would be best to take the food to his apartment.

They ordered Chinese take-out from a cheap, local shop a few blocks away from home; not so healthy but filling, the kind that could possibly trigger Chris’ inner nutritionist. But hey, at least Yuuri liked it—as much as anyone who can’t be bothered by the taste of anything could.

“I feel very ignored on this lunch date, Yuuri,” Viktor muttered in the middle of it all, lightly kicking Yuuri’s feet under the dinner table. “I’m the only one who keeps talking.”

Yuuri blinked at him with heavy eyes. “Huh?”

Viktor pouted. As best as he could.

“Don’t give me that,” Yuuri said. “You know you always have my attention.”

Viktor preened.

This, in turn, earned him a snort. “Why don’t we do the dishes and then we sleep?”

“Not complaining.”

Instead of actually making Yuuri do the dishes, Viktor sent him off to the bedroom first and did all the cleaning by himself. There’s more stuff to clean than usual, but Viktor felt so oddly happy about it; and even caught himself smiling for no reason at all.

He’s been doing a lot of that lately.

There’s this strange feeling of giddiness every time he saw two mugs of coffee on the table instead of one, two toothbrushes on the sink, two pairs of gloves on a dish by the front door. It was so rare for Viktor to see those things around his apartment, and he felt so happy about them it was starting to sound creepy.

A few minutes later, Viktor went to his bedroom to find his phone firing up with the usual messages. All of them were from clients asking about how he was and whether he was okay—the usual things—and he would reply to them with the same, copy-pasted message about missing them dearly, that he would find time for them immediately after his short break. He would flirt with them, making sure to keep them on their toes while he was away, and it works every time.

Again, Viktor liked making promises he’d never keep, and they work out for him so well.

-

“Yuuri,” Viktor blinked hard, fighting against his own sleepiness, as he gently shook Yuuri awake. “Yuuri, it’s four-thirty.”

“Hm.”

“You told me to wake you at four-thirty.”

“Five more minutes.”

“Baby,” Viktor dropped kisses against Yuuri’s shoulder, tapping his hips. “You’re going to keep asking me for another five minutes until you’ve used up all your time.”

Yuuri snuggled closer, but didn’t say a word.

“Come on,” Viktor said, kissing him on the cheek this time. “I’ll make coffee.”

Viktor went to the kitchen and started up the coffeemaker, then went to check for something to eat, preferably chocolate or dessert of any kind. When he didn’t find those, he settled for something (anything) that’s sweet, so he pulled out a can of whipped cream and placed it beside the two mugs of steaming hot coffee.

“What’s that?” Yuuri asked, rubbing at his eyes again.

His hair was now rumpled, his shirt wrinkly. He looked so, so tired that it made Viktor want to embrace him and stop him from working that night.

“Sugar for extra energy,” Viktor said.

“And extra bad for you.”

“And here I thought you liked those kinds of things,” Viktor said, sliding one of the mugs toward Yuuri, then generously swirling cream on top of it. “Don’t you eat MSG every day?”

Yuuri chuckled and pulled out a chair, slumping immediately after he’s on it. “That’s because I’m broke. All the healthy things are for people who can afford them.”

“Heh. But you don’t like broccoli?”

“Fried broccoli.”

“Same thing.”

“You added broccoli into a perfectly innocent scrambled egg.”

Viktor put a hand to his chest. “How dare you insult Christophe’s famous breakfast recipe!”

After he’s had his coffee, Yuuri dragged himself to the coffee table and worked on his paper. He was almost there, he told Viktor, it was just that there’s so much to edit and he had to make sure it didn’t look too sloppy. Viktor never did get why there was a required number of words when things would be a lot easier if explained briefly, but what did he know.

“By the way,” Yuuri said, as he was still typing on his laptop. Viktor could tell that his attention was beginning to waver toward something else, either from tiredness or general worry. “I contacted someone the other day. I might be looking at some apartments this weekend.”

“I also found a few you can check out,” Viktor said suddenly, forgetting for a second how absurd that might have sounded like. “I mean, if you want. You don’t have to, if you don’t like them. I just got some people suggest me things, that’s all.”

Viktor would have completely understood if Yuuri said no. Because honestly, where Yuuri chose to live shouldn’t be any of Viktor’s business. Hence, his rambling disclaimers.

But then, Yuuri looked to him and said, “That’d be great.”

“Really?”

Yuuri nodded. “I mean, if it’s not _too_ expensive...”

“We’ll have a look at it,” Viktor said. “I haven’t asked about rent yet, though.”

Yuuri went back to his paper after that. About an hour later, Viktor drove Yuuri to work, promising he’d be back to pick him up at three. Once he was home, he used up all of the time he had alone to bring out all of his client records again. Stephanie hadn’t actually told him to review them, but it wasn’t like he had anything else to do.

He had a list of people he’d probably have to avoid from then on, but once he’s back to working again, there’s still enough clients to keep his business going. Not to mention, he was famous amongst internet threads, so it’s really not that big of a deal if he kept getting new clients.

Hours later, once he’s cleaned up his desk and was on his way out the door, his phone rang. When he looked at the caller ID, he didn’t recognise it; but it couldn’t be anyone other than Stephanie, and she had a habit of owning several burners at a time.

Grabbing his car keys, Viktor answered the call.

“Hello?”

“ _Anatoly, is this you?_ ”

Viktor froze.

“ _Hey, sweetheart. You need to tell me—_ ”

“How did you get this phone number?”

“ _That’s what I was about to tell you. Anatoly, please hear me out—_ ”

“Your wife doesn’t want me near you,” Viktor said, his voice sharp and firm. “Please don’t call me again.”

He ended the call abruptly, feeling his heart racing fast. Viktor stood in front of the doorway, stiff and shaking, his common sense telling him to run and hide. The phone, still in his hand, almost felt hot to the touch; like the his instincts wanted him to throw it away.

And he did.

He took the sim card out and snapped it in half, and chucked it into the garbage bin by the kitchen counter. Pulling his sleeve, he saw that he had a few minutes to spare, so he went to his bedroom and retrieved his other burner, and moved to call Steph.

It was probably the smart thing to do right at that moment. He should have dialled her number, got some advice and not hyperventilate, hole up, and never come out.

But Viktor wasn’t smart in that moment.

If there’s one thing about him that he always knew to be true, it was that he faced his problems head-on—and to a fault. He was careful, never truly reckless, and made sure things were alright before he came back out into the world again.

For once, though, he wanted to run away from all of his problems.

_Not today_ , he thought.

So he gripped his car keys, tighter than he should have, and went outside.

-

Thursday nights at the bar has been the same since the first time Viktor came to visit Yuuri at work. Several drunks were finishing up copious amounts of grease-filled food they won’t remember eating, and the sober ones who were there looked either lonely or contemplating their purpose in the universe. And it’s not even the end of the week, so he could only imagine how miserable these people could be to be out drinking on a work day.

It was a depressing place, sure, but if he were to be a patron himself, he guessed he wouldn’t be too bad. In fact, it was a shame he had to drive that night. A glass of Whiskey seemed like the best decision he could ever make.

But Yuuri was there at the bar, smiling at him, though he looked like death. He was wiping his mixer with a white cloth, having just cleaned it, and was putting away bottles of liquor back on the shelves.

He jerked his chin at Viktor playfully. “Can I get you something?”

Viktor held back a laugh, staying in character, as he pulled out a stool in front of the bar. “Tall glass of your most expensive Whiskey. On the rocks.”

“Are you driving, sir?”

“Why do you ask?” Viktor raised his eyebrows, curious and amused. He wondered if this if what Yuuri often said to his customers or if he was just a special case.

“I might have to take your keys,” Yuuri continued, his elbows now perched on the edge of the bar, face blank. This is the part where Viktor _hoped_ he was the special case, because then he’d throw a fit at the thought of his boyfriend flirting with someone else. “We don’t want you recklessly driving tonight and getting arrested. Or worse.”

This broke Viktor’s resolve, and he grinned. “I could assure you I am not.”

Yuuri eyed him with a knowing look, because of course he knew Viktor was driving. It’s a lot more fun pretending, though. “If you say so.”

Viktor was a little bit surprised when Yuuri did move away and took out a tall glass. He didn’t, however, reach for any of the stuff on the top shelf, but instead grabbed a bottle of something pink.

“Here you go,” Yuuri pushed the drink in front of him, added a few ice cubes to make it seem more realistic.

“I didn’t think Whiskey could be so pink.”

“You said the most expensive one that we have,” Yuuri winked. “It’s on the house.”

You could actually tell what it was just by sniffing it, which was (to Viktor’s delight) strawberry yogurt. He couldn’t help but snort, further losing grasp of the character he was trying to play, still very much amused by how adorable Yuuri could be even if he didn’t mean to.

“You’ll have to prepare yourself, then,” Viktor said, taking at sip of it. It was _heavenly_ by the way. Probably meant for some really devious cocktail that’ll fool you into thinking it wasn’t going to give you the worst hangover. “I’m planning on keeping a tab and drink up your supply.”

“I’m afraid the bar’s closed,” Yuuri said. “That’ll be your last order, sir.”

Oh, Viktor was beginning to like this even more. “I don’t mean to assume, but...is there a way for me to make you bend the rules?”

Yuuri paused for a little bit, as if he was actually thinking about it, and then, “I’m afraid not, sir. Why don’t you come back next time and whatever you order first, it’s on the house.”

“Is that an invitation to see you again?”

“I mean, I might not be here when you come, who knows?” Yuuri tapped the glass that was in front of Viktor, indicating that he needed to clean it up too.

Viktor laughed and finished the yogurt. “So eager for me to leave, huh?”

“I _do_ have a paper to finish,” Yuuri shook his head, finally breaking character, and took the glass from Viktor. “Besides, you’re already taking me home tonight, so...”

“Oh, _Yuuri_ ,” Viktor grinned. “Did my flirting actually work this time?”

“It always does, idiot.”

“I hope someone else’s doesn’t, though,” he said, still trying to get a reaction out of the other. “I’d be devastated.”

Which, for the record, was actually true; but Viktor’s seen what a fucking champ Yuuri was whenever he gently let someone down. He was actually pretty lucky he hadn’t been one of the poor people his little heartbreaker of a boyfriend turned down. Or maybe he’s thinking that because he just liked to stroke his ego, but a man can dream.

Viktor didn’t exactly get a verbal response to that, but the look of fondness on Yuuri’s face was enough.

A little later after that, they were finally driving back to Viktor’s apartment, Yuuri still looking like death. He pointed this out to Yuuri, whom only shushed him and moaned about how much he still needed to do. Viktor stopped bothering him after that, and decided the best he could do was to keep the coffee coming in and to make sure Yuuri doesn’t fall flat on his face mid-editing.

They could probably work something out like paying a doctor to say that Yuuri wasn’t well enough to write the paper and pass it on time, but Viktor didn’t want to risk offending his boyfriend. He knew how Yuuri didn’t like being pampered or _helped_ , which was honestly a shame; since Viktor would have done anything for him if he only asked.

“How many pages are you supposed to write?” Viktor asked, more to keep Yuuri alert than to just start a random conversation.

The silence in the living room wasn’t actually helping, but Yuuri said he couldn’t concentrate with the music on. It made him forget about what he meant to write, he said. He apparently ended up typing up the lyrics to a song he was listening to once, all thanks to how exhausted he was.

“About three more,” Yuuri replied, scrolling through the text document. “Then I can start editing.”

“Is that a Management course?”

“Hmmm?” Yuuri glanced at Viktor quickly before grabbing a pen and scribbled a few things on a piece of paper. “No, it’s African History.”

“An elective?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, going back to his laptop and tapping away. “I like it a lot.”

“Am I disturbing you?”

Shaking his head, Yuuri smiled. “No, I like that you’re talking to me while I’m editing.”

And so Viktor decided to carry on. If it kept Yuuri awake, it’s probably going to help a lot. “What other electives did you like?”

“English History? I like Edwardian England,” he said, still typing away, frowning a little when he saw small errors. “I also took a few in Literature. For P.E., I liked dancing.”

“What kind of dancing?”

“Ballet.”

Viktor’s eyes widened, suddenly filled with sudden fascination. He wasn’t surprised, exactly. Dancing really wasn’t something too far-fetched to think about whenever he saw the subtle grace in the way that Yuuri moved.

“And do you like it?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri smiled, fond. “I used to dance back in Japan—I have a godmother who’s a teacher—so she let me use her studio sometimes. I also took lessons with the kids back then.”

“And you didn’t pursue dancing?” Viktor asked. “I mean, I thought there’s a program for that somewhere?”

Yuuri shrugged. “I guess it takes a lot of inspiration to go for something like that. It’s not like I grew up watching someone then wanting to see them in person, you know?”

“Really?”

“Really,” Yuuri laughed. “I guess I would have if I had an idol or anything like that. But I just liked dancing for what it is. Then I got into Figure Skating, for fun. Same story.”

“And wouldn’t you want to compete?” Viktor asked again, terribly curious now. Thinking what a waste Yuuri’s talents were if he were to just dismiss them like that. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be one of those people coming to every single one of your competitions. Actually, scratch that—I’d probably watch over you and make sure you eat and get you costumes.”

Yuuri laughed, eyes crinkling, looking so much better than a few hours ago. “I bet you would. But I’m twenty-one, Viktor. I only do half of what Ciao Ciao’s making Phichit do, so I could only imagine how far behind I would be.”

“Not too late to try.”

They kept talking about it until Viktor realised they were basically running around in circles; he would tell Yuuri it wasn’t too late, and Yuuri would tell him it was too much work. He eventually gave in and went to the kitchen to make coffee instead, as it was the only thing he could do to help.

“I am putting you on a caffeine cleansing this weekend,” Viktor joked, sliding the third cup of coffee in front of Yuuri. “Still attending class today?”

Yuuri shook his head. “I don’t think I can.”

“You don’t have to feel bad about it, you know,” Viktor said. “It’s not like you’re out somewhere drunk. You’ve been _working_ , you need rest too.”

Viktor knew that it’s mostly futile to convince Yuuri not to become a perfect human being for once, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. Besides, he had been stubborn once upon a time, so he knew perfectly well that it could change.

“I’m actually just going to turn this in and sleep the whole day,” Yuuri said. “I still can’t miss work, but you know...”

“That’s perfectly reasonable.”

“I know,” Yuuri looked up at Viktor and smiled. “Don’t you want to sleep?”

And why, when he was in his right mind, ever do that?

“Nope,” Viktor said, walking to where Yuuri sat on the floor and plopped right next to him. “I’ll be here until you’re done.”

-

Since the beginning of Viktor fucking up his sleep schedule, he would always find himself waking up to not having the slightest idea of where on earth he’s been or what time of the day it was. Usually, he’ll wake mid-afternoon, just an hour before the sun began to go down. That day, Yuuri was with him, still sound asleep from all the exhaustion, but it wasn’t the only thing that’s new.

Viktor hadn’t been woken up by his own fucked up body clock, but by the sound of the doorbell buzzing. He thought it would be Chris, so he hadn’t really bothered to dress or look presentable, so imagine his surprise when he saw Stephanie standing outside his door. She wore what looked to be the most inconspicuous ensemble of jeans and sweater she could find, her blonde hair tied loosely into a bun.

And she was frowning. _At him_.

She had very sharp features, intimidating in the most extreme sense; the kind of woman you didn’t want to approach at a bar because you knew you were going to get a smack down two seconds into your pick-up line. “Do you usually just let people in without asking who they are?”

He blinked at her, still bleary, though his thoughts were starting to come to him. “No.”

“You’re not usually like this,” she said, pushing past him and into his apartment with the same familiarity as Chris, looking around like she might notice signs of him going insane. “I thought you were the careful one.”

“I am,” he said, irritably. “Look, I thought you were Chris, okay? I didn’t think there’d be anyone who knows where I am.”

She stared at him disbelievingly, then got out her phone almost casually, tapping away at it like she was texting someone. “And how would you know that?”

“Because I’m _very_ careful,” he said. “I check my bank accounts and make sure no one recognises me before I step out of a building or my car. I switch out my phone number often and keep separate identities. I am the most careful person you know.”

There was a very long, awkward pause where Steph was just on her phone and Viktor was waiting for some form of response.

It was weird, their relationship—they weren’t exactly friends, but Viktor trusted her with everything. You could say it’s the money that was keeping their relationship as good as it was, but Steph was good with secrets and even better at finding ways to keep them, and that was enough.

“Tom found out someone’s been trying to hack into your bank accounts,” she said, shoving her phone in front of his face.

Now, in situations like this, Viktor would have said something like, ‘ _what?_ ’ or ‘ _how?_ ’ in complete surprise, because it wasn’t a thing that happened to just anybody. It just so happened that Viktor wasn’t _just anybody_ , so of course, insane things like this ought to happen to him.

Instead, he said, “Why would anyone do that?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” She said, hands on her hips, looking very, very irritated. “Someone’s been trying to get to your personal information, Viktor. We’re lucky Tom’s the shit when it comes to this computer thing, otherwise whoever it was that did it would have already had you threatened at the very least.”

Oh, shit.

“Did someone from the Dunham incident ever came in contact with you lately? Have you been anywhere near their house or office?”

“No.”

“Did someone shady ever approach you while you were out getting groceries?”

“No.”

“Did anybody call you?”

_Shit_.

Shit shit shit shit.

His face must have answered her question almost instantly, for Stephanie’s eyes changed to that of surprise, looking almost like she couldn’t believe for one second that Viktor could screw up so bad.

“When did this happen?” she asked, firm.

“Early this morning, I think.”

This, made her even more frustrated than she initially was. “You ‘ _think’_? And why didn’t you tell me? You had all morning to call!”

“I—”

Before Viktor could even think of a coherent explanation, it revealed itself in the form of his boyfriend walking groggily out of his room.

Yuuri looked like he had just woken up—hair still pointed in different directions and eyes still heavy with sleep—but it did not make Viktor feel any better.

He looked to Stephanie to divert his panic, thinking how he was ever going to explain why this woman he never mentioned was in his apartment, but only to regret it right away.

Steph looked rather curious, eyes entirely on Yuuri, probably figuring out the situation faster than Viktor could come up for a proper excuse.

And god of all heavens, bless her, for she was the first one to open her mouth and said, “Hi! Are you Viktor’s boyfriend?”

Yuuri seemed rather confused, but he saw the sweet smile on Steph’s face, which he in turn nodded shyly as a response. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“You guess so.”

“No, I mean, yes...I’m his boyfriend,” Yuuri waved a hand unnecessarily. “Sorry, I just woke up.”

“It’s okay!” She grinned, coming up to Yuuri with her hand out. “I’m Stephanie. I used to work with him at a marketing firm.”

Yuuri took her hand and shook it, still looking rather confused. “Oh.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t be here long. I just came for a business trip and decided I needed to check up on this idiot,” she said, sticking her thumb out to indicate Viktor, who was smiling rather awkwardly because he didn’t know what to do. “And oh, Viktor, here’s the book you wanted me to get you.”

She pulled out a language textbook, smallish in size, and in German. Stephanie was indeed the master of ad libs, but Viktor was sure she wouldn’t have carried around a book that was completely meaningless to her or him. He accepted it, smiled, and thanked her as if it was what he wanted all along.

“And that’s what I came here for,” she said, still grinning. “I better be off or my associates are going to kill me. See you around Yuuri!”

And she was out the door.

It took a while before Viktor’s brain recalibrated. Everything that happened in those last five minutes felt like it was playing at the back of his mind in full speed, his pulse going rapid and his walls turned up to the highest possible level.

Not until Yuuri, who was still standing there, asked, “So you wanted to learn German, huh?”

Viktor looked to him with intuitive doubt, as he always was when he found himself in precarious situations, but somehow looking at Yuuri grounded him a little. He managed a smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes, but a better reaction than instant recoil.

“Ah, yes,” he said, “Something I like to do as a hobby, I guess.”

Yuuri raised his eyebrows, amused. He seemed to have woken up properly, more alert than he had been earlier. “And speaking three languages isn’t enough?”

“I guess?” Viktor laughed, rather awkwardly he might add, but you’ve got to give him props for acting better than he expected himself to. “Care to teach me Japanese sometime?”

“Sure, why not,” Yuuri said. He pointed toward the kitchen next, saying he wanted to make popcorn, to which Viktor eagerly agreed to.

No, really.

Must be nice to do something as mundane as eating popcorn while he was in the middle of protecting his dignity.

“Barbecue?”

“With a little bit of salt,” Viktor said.

And Yuuri smiled. “Alright.”

-

While Yuuri was in the kitchen, Viktor found himself staring at the godawful textbook like it might sting him. Finding his bearings, he gathered all the courage he had in that moment, and skimmed through the pages.

Inside, was a few pieces of paper tucked in.

One of them, was a plane ticket.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think?
> 
> Also, drop prompts or say hi on my Tumblr! You have no idea how it makes my day when you guys message me. HMU [@anna-domini](https://anna-domini.tumblr.com/)


	6. Yes To Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think I was going to go down without a _fucking_ fight, did you? Of course, I'm continuing all the shit I started.
> 
> A/N:  
>  **1**. I'm going to do some editing tomorrow since I'm tired to do that now. But nothing plot related, just grammar checks. And do point it out if some annoying misspellings/grammar shit annoys you.  
>  **2**. This one's also relatively shorter than the other chapters. I thought about how I should break them up but didn't feel right to add more to it plot-wise and shit.

Viktor was a man who could make the right decisions in so little time, but Viktor has changed so much over the years that it’s become somewhat hard to keep that up. It had been easy back then; he’d run into a problem, consult Stephanie, and do what he was told. He trusted her because she was _always_ right; her methods were calculated and logical, and there was no way for things to go wrong if he listened to her.

Now he stood inside the elevator of Stephanie’s apartment building, the note she left him a day ago tightly grasped in his hand.

_Don’t call me. Come visit @ 6 if you have any questions_ , it said.

Lovely.

She knew he was going to throw a fit one way or another, so she conveniently set up consultation hours. Maybe she was being careful about using the phone after the last incident; which made sense, but that didn’t make it any less annoying to be honest. Viktor wasn’t _that_ stupid—he wouldn’t have survived for as long as he had if he were.

Once he’s on the right floor, he went straight to her doorstep, a place that’s grown all too familiar. He knocked, almost hesitantly, and then the door opened without more than a minute passing.

“About time,” Steph said. She jerked her chin into the direction of the hallway, telling him to get his ass inside.

Viktor didn’t bother waiting for her to close the door before he opened his mouth in protest. “Who gave you the idea that flying out of Michigan meant problem solved?”

“Me,” she said, walking toward the bar at the corner of the room, where a half-empty glass of whiskey and an ashtray sat beside her laptop. She spoke to him like this shouldn’t be a surprise, as if she didn’t expect him to resist as much as he wanted to. “You have regular clients who travel all the way to Michigan to book your services. Most of them are in California. And most of them not associated with the Dunhams.”

“So what do you want me to do?” Viktor asked. “Haul everything I have and move to the other side of the country just like _that_?”

And as if the Steph found the exact words to stop him in his tracks, she responded, “You knew this could happen.”

He knew it was a possibility. He knew that someday, somewhere, he was going to either screw up or get screwed over and he’ll have to do something to protect himself.

Viktor knew all that from being in the business for so long—have watched people like him get humiliated, get their lives ruined from one, single misstep. Mistakes weren’t unavoidable, but once situations like these happened, he knew that each and every decision from then on would matter.

“If Melissa Dunham found enough evidence of her husband spending time with you, she could file a _lawsuit_ , Viktor,” she said, grabbing her glass of whiskey. “And that’s the least of your problems.”

She didn’t have to tell him that. She didn’t have to because Viktor knew all that and more. He knew there could be consequences if things turned awry while he was out working, if one of his clients got their information leaked, if _his_ information got leaked. And that was why it was pissing him off beyond belief, because he knew Stephanie was right and yet he still couldn’t make himself do the right thing.

“Look, what would I be without you? Who can I run to if something like this happens again?”

“You have my phone number,” she said. “And I’ll have someone check up on you. I trust them.”

“ _I_ don’t.”

Viktor realised that at this point, he was merely making excuses to stay—which was very, very stupid. Ignorance was one thing, but being so fully aware of your own potential mistake but sticking to it anyway is a sure fire way into disaster.

Stephanie seemed to have picked up on his bullshit and shook her head. “Viktor, look—”

“Please don’t even try to explain,” Viktor said. “I know what the situation is, and I’m choosing to stay.”

She sighed deeply, and like never he’s heard before. It had been so easy back then. He would run into a problem and she fixed it; she’d tell him to lie low and he would, she’d tell him to not accept bookings from certain people and he would. He followed her orders to the last letter and it worked well for them both, and things would have been as equally easy, if he wasn’t being all too stubborn about it. Viktor could only imagine what she was thinking at the moment, how difficult he seemed compared to how he usually was.

One might argue that Viktor was stupidly in love and therefore cannot make any coherent decision, but that was an analogy he didn’t want to ever bring up in front of Stephanie, frustrated and annoyed as she was.

“Three months,” she said. “Three months and I’ll see if you can come back.”

Viktor didn’t miss the fact that there was absolutely no assurance in it, that there was no proper time frame which he could work with.

She might as well have told him _‘I don’t know when you’ll be able to come back’_.

“Absolutely _not_.”

“If you’re so concerned about your boyfriend, then maybe you should start thinking about what this means for him,” Steph said, her tone a little harsh. “You might be able to recover from public humiliation, Viktor, but you don’t know if he will.”

He swore he could feel his veins pop. “What are you trying to say?”

“Is he really worth it?” she asked. He was just about ready to say that yes, Yuuri was worth it, in every sense of the word. He was just about to tell her how strange of a question that was, when she knew fully well what his answer would be—but then she raised a hand, and continued with, “And if he is, don’t you think it’s only right that you protected him?”

Viktor felt dread sneak up from behind him, breaking through his idiotically infatuated mind, hammering sense into him like a fucking hailstorm. He knew for a fact that Stephanie was a master of words, that she could use them to convince anyone to do what she wanted if need be.

But despite that, Viktor knew that Stephanie was kind, that she would never do that to him. He trusted her with his life, with his everything, and even if they weren’t friends in the fullest sense, she was right.

Oh god, she was _always_ right, wasn’t she?

“I’m not forcing you to do this, Viktor. You can stay if you want to, and I won’t hold it against you,” she said, eyes softer, more sympathetic. Her usually calm was noticeably marred by a few dark circles under her eyes, her clothes a litter looser in places they usually aren’t. “If you stay, I will do everything in my power to make sure you’re safe, but I cannot guarantee it the same way I could if you left. Do you understand?”

He nodded. “Can I think about it?”

Something was trying to creep it’s way into the back of his mind, something akin to defeat. It was telling Viktor to give up, to let it be, and was trying to appeal to his rational mind. And how strange was it, for Viktor to ignore his rational thought completely.

“You have the ticket,” Steph said. “You can decide until then. And whether you’re in Los Angeles or in Detroit, call me right away.”

-

Yuuri looked absolutely drained as he walked out of the fourth apartment they’ve looked at in the past few hours. In the course of Viktor knowing him, he had discovered that Yuuri got easily exhausted after interacting with people—a typical sign of an introvert. It wasn’t in any way crippling that he couldn’t work the night shift, but it must still be a struggle to manoeuvre his timidness while working at a place regularly filled with people.

People constantly hitting on him, Viktor might add, and he couldn’t help but feel an inappropriate amount of pride in it. He didn’t understand why he felt that either.

“You alright?” Viktor had asked when they were at the parking lot.

“I’m fine,” Yuuri sighed, obviously lying. “How many more do we have to check out?”

Viktor pulled out his phone and opened his notes. “About three more this afternoon? Appointments are about an hour apart from each other.”

Yuuri groaned.

As a college student on the hunt for a proper place to live in, you would have expected that Yuuri had very, very low standards—and even with those low standards, there’s just about at least one problem in every unit they visited.

Sometimes it’s possible to work around it, like the apartment being too far away or too expensive for Yuuri’s budget, but most times it was Viktor’s concern, where there’s some slimy potential roommate that just didn’t make him feel good about leaving Yuuri there. The said roommates ranged from slobs to outright creeps, too, and Viktor was having none of it as soon as he had the realisation.

“I can get the third one if we don’t find someplace else,” Yuuri sighed as he buckled his seatbelt, looking more frustrated than he was tired.

Viktor tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “The one where the bus stop’s a twenty minute walk?”

Yuuri wrinkled his nose. “I mean, it’s not a big deal. I’ll just have to wake up thirty minutes earlier than usual.”

“I mean...”

“Viktor,” Yuuri said. “Come on.”

Viktor closed his eyes, a little unsettled about the fact that he wasn’t really getting what he wanted. Which was strange, because wherever Yuuri lived wasn’t supposed to concern him, and yet to him it did.

“You know, you don’t have to decide now. You can stay at my apartment,” Viktor said.

He didn’t even know why it took so long for him to come up with that solution.

Suddenly, Yuuri’s eyes went wide, as if this had never occurred to him at all. “I can’t do that!”

“ _Temporarily_ ,” Viktor said, to remove any notion of settling down, just in case Yuuri wasn’t ready for that sort of commitment. And frankly, Viktor felt like it wasn’t the right time for him, too.

And oh, was he going to talk about it right then and there? Well in that case, what perfect timing.

“Um, I should have told you about this sooner, but I—” Viktor broke off. “I’ve been considering this job offer a long time ago. Three months. It’s going to be a huge mansion in beachside Los Angeles. I’d have to be there to oversee liquidation, moving, and well, interior design. That sorts.”

Yuuri perked up, initial shock gone from his face as he gazed up at Viktor.

The thing about lying is that it really doesn’t make you feel any better, not when you don’t want to do it. Coming up with stories and lies has always been a part of Viktor’s job. He’s so good at it that sometimes he began believing them himself.

But it’s different with Yuuri.

Viktor was himself. He wasn’t prim and proper nor did he have snotty or expensive taste. He loved sci-fi movies and openly talked about it, loved staying in and making popcorn, loved the idea of getting himself a dog so he had something he could look out for.

With him, Viktor was _human_ , not an untouchable prize.

“I should have told you. I really don’t want to leave and I really, really like your company, Yuuri,” Viktor said, apologetic.

Sometimes he wondered when he was ever going to stop lying. Whether it was possible that there was someone other than Chris and Stephanie who’ll know everything about him and not care.

“Take the offer.”

Viktor was shocked to hear the response. “What?”

“I said take the offer,” Yuuri smiled. “It’s probably going to be good for you. I don’t mind Skyping you ever so often.”

‘ _Just like that?’_ , Viktor wanted to ask. But not in a way that was needy or accusatory, just genuine shock.

He guessed he really didn’t know much about people in general, because he felt like he was so neurotic for no reason at all. In fact, what did he expect Yuuri’s reaction to be? Demand that Viktor chose between him and his so-called ‘career’? What would be the proper reaction coming from an understanding, endearing, and sweet boyfriend?

“If you’re holding back because of me, don’t,” Yuuri said. “You’ve stuck with me through school, Viktor. I don’t think there’s any more to worry about other than the fact that I might be calling you more than usual.”

_Ah_ , Viktor though. _So it’s that the kind of reaction_.

“What are you talking about? You know I won’t mind!” Viktor took hold of Yuuri’s hand, lips grazing his knuckles. For some weird reason, there was some reassurance in that, uplifting in the midst of his own self-inflicted misery. “Call whenever you want to. Don’t even think about what time it is, please.”

It was useless to tell Yuuri not to care about the time of day he’s calling, because obviously he would, but it was nice that it’s out there. Who knows, maybe Yuuri’d be in dire need of him that he had to call him late.

“I’m serious, though,” Viktor said. “You can have my apartment for as long as you don’t have a proper place to stay.”

At this, Yuuri grew increasingly red again. “ _Viktor_ , you know I can’t afford the rent to your place.”

Viktor frowned. “I’m not _subleasing_ it to you. You’re just staying there while I’m gone. The landlord’s probably going to charge me for the utilities anyway, so might as well have someone there.”

“But—”

“Hey,” Viktor grasped Yuuri’s hand tighter. “Think about it like this, hmm? I’ll be off somewhere doing my job and I’m still paying for an apartment no one’s going use. I won’t be able to buy you food and stuff, but at least you’re there, right?”

“Like a caretaker?”

Well, he didn’t like the sound of that because Yuuri was his _boyfriend_ for goodness sake; but if it got through him that way, why the hell not? “Something like that?” Viktor said. “Don’t think of this like a commitment thing if you don’t want to, okay? It’s convenient for the both of us and I certainly don’t mind because it’s you. I assure you, _Zolotse_.”

His eyes still cast down, contemplative, Yuuri began to nod. Viktor knew that this wasn’t a ‘ _yes_ ’—not yet, but almost. Besides, Viktor wasn’t asking much of him, so it really shouldn’t be such a big deal. Just a little push in the right direction and...

Viktor smiled. “So, what do you think, Mr. Katsuki? Might you want to look after my apartment while I’m gone?”

With a smile, Yuuri shook his head and said, “Fine.”

Bingo.

“That’s more like it,” Viktor said, eyes on the road, determined to make their time together worthwhile.

Four days.

That’s how long he had before he needed to leave.

-

That Saturday night, Yuuri thought it’d be nice if he made dinner for the both of them. This, of course, excited Viktor; because although Yuuri made breakfast or dinner for them most days, he’s never declared anything to be special.

Anything that Yuuri made was special, honestly, because if you got someone like Viktor who could only do a little bit of frying here and microwaveable stuff there, then anything home-cooked was bound to be a blessing.

The first clue as to how ‘special’ the night was going to be was that Yuuri had asked Viktor to stay when he insisted to drive him to the grocery store. It didn’t bode well for Viktor, because how the hell was he going to become Boyfriend of the Year when he was letting Yuuri walk all alone to pick up ingredients for their dinner date?

So they made compromises (again). Yuuri was going to take Viktor’s car (he knew how to drive and had a licence, he assured) and he’ll be back in under an hour.

While he wasn’t so sold on letting his boyfriend do all the work, he did agree to it, and instead kept himself busy by preparing the dinner table. By ‘preparing’ Viktor was doing nothing more than to change table runners, set up plates, and went running about the apartment to look for a candle that didn’t look like it’d be more suited in the funeral. He did know that _mood_ was everything, might he be at work or at home, so he kind of went with that.

By the time Yuuri had arrived, Viktor had set up the table nicely. He had laid a nice, deep red table runner with gold linings, added an antique candelabrum (he wasn’t joking about the fact that he liked antiques), and had a vinyl record playing jazz music in the background.

Yuuri raised an amused eyebrow.

“It got out of hand,” Viktor had said, by way of explanation.

By some miracle, Yuuri actually found this to be endearing rather than outright creepy, and proceeded to the kitchen. When Viktor trailed after, he was again told not to follow. Viktor whined a little, but of course Yuuri promised him _things_ , and that worked almost instantly.

Yuuri would come back out of the kitchen almost an hour later, meticulous as he replaced Viktor’s plates with bowls and the silver cutlery with wooden chopsticks.

“If I had known you were going for a more romantic vibe, I would have made you something else,” Yuuri said.

Viktor felt his ears heat up, but ignored it. Instead, he kissed Yuuri on the lips, then on the cheek, and said, “I don’t know what you mean. Anything I do with you is romantic.”

They sat down and picked up their chopsticks, Viktor marvelling at Yuuri’s work like it was some kind of art piece. So many ‘ _Yuuri, this looks amazing!_ ’ and ‘ _Careful, I might get used to it!_ ’, which was obviously mostly Viktor talking; while Yuuri stayed where he was and silently smiled through the whole thing. No wonder Yuuri’s hellbent to keep it a surprise.

“It’s not as good as my mom’s though,” Yuuri said, taking a bite off of his cutlet, still observing Viktor in fond amusement. “I just kind of figured which one of the ingredients taste the closest to what she normally makes.”

“I can’t imagine what it’d taste like if we had better Asian groceries,” Viktor sighed, picking at the last of his food. “I didn’t think you can make such marvellous _katsudon_.”

Yuuri perked up. “Have you had _katsudon_ before?”

“Yeah?” Viktor said. “I keep trying to look for Japanese restaurants while I’m off on a business trip, but I don’t think I’ve ever had one so close to the one I had back in Japan. Must be because you know your stuff pretty well?”

“You’ve been to Japan?”

Viktor was suddenly reminded of how little he’s shared about his childhood to Yuuri; and not because he didn’t want to, but only because they didn’t have the _time_.

“When I was about fourteen...fifteen, I think? My mama and papa went on this three-month-long vacation where we flew to about six, seven countries? We were in Japan for about a week and set a goal to eat in as many places as we could,” Viktor said, reliving the memory in his head, although he still felt a small pang in his chest as he did. “We went into this little _onsen_ back then. Smallish place, but had wonderful food? That kind of stuff?”

There was a spark in Yuuri’s eyes; of interest or of hope, but not entirely decipherable. “Did that happen to be in Hasetsu?”

Viktor’s eyes grew wide, like a thought crossed his mind just oh so suddenly. “You were eighteen when you left Japan, right?”

“Yes,” Yuuri replied. “My family also owns an _onsen_ in Hasetsu, and my mother serves the best _katsudon_.”

In that moment, Viktor felt something more than just a strange sense of nostalgia. It was more of recognition, of things coming back to him for the first time in a long time—along with many other memories that he had left buried at the very back of his mind.

“You don’t happen to have helped with the restaurant, did you?”

A smile appeared on Yuuri’s face, welcoming and bright as it always was. “You were beautiful then, as you are now.”

A thought hit him, like a train. “Oh my _god_ , Yuuri! I should—I should have realised it sooner!”

_Idiot_ , he thought to himself. This was possibly the most mortifying thing he’s ever had to face in his life. Also, Viktor didn’t do ‘embarrassed’, it’s not a thing the existed and it was definitely not a thing he’d expected to feel at all.

“Hey, hey. Don’t worry about it,” Yuuri poked Viktor’s nose endearingly, and though Viktor hadn’t calmed down, he did stop trying to apologise profusely. “It’s not like it mattered how we met back when we were children. I wouldn’t even have known I liked boys back then.”

“But—”

“All I’m saying is that I met you _now_ , and that’s what matters to me,” Yuuri said. “It’s a nice coincidence though, isn’t it?”

“It’s not _just_ a coincidence, Yuuri! I met the most wonderful person I would ever come to meet and I didn’t even remember,” Viktor lamented. “All that wasted time!”

And maybe things would have been different, he thought, but he wasn’t so sure why he’s come to that conclusion.

“You know I’m skittish,” Yuuri shrugged. “Who knows, you could have done something to scare me away and we never happened.”

Viktor pulled a blank face. “Wow,” he said. “I’m not so much as a savage that I would pounce on you at age...what? Ten? Which, by the way, _ew_.”

Yuuri laughed and leaned over to kiss him, fingers gently running against his cheeks. “Let’s wash the dishes?”

The revelation was briefly forgotten once Viktor drew his attention to the current task at hand. He helped Yuuri with the dishes, asked him about school, and listened to his rants about Phichit.

Though having agreed that it wasn’t that big of a deal, he felt like they should talk about the said revelation more, but then he’d have to break routine. The ‘routine’ being just the both of them mindlessly chatting as they did the dishes or arranged furniture, or knowing he’s assigned to the coffee-making and Yuuri making breakfast in the morning. It’s those constant understanding of what to do next that’s entirely new to Viktor when Yuuri came to his life, but he’s begun to appreciate them more. Their routines reminded him that he was in fact _not_ lonely, and that there was someone he’s been with constantly enough to know him so well.

“Let me get that,” Yuuri said, expertly taking the dripping dishes from Viktor’s hands and carefully arranged them on a dish rack.

“I could dry them.”

“You said you wanted to shower,” Yuuri said. “This won’t take long.”

Viktor loved that they could be so relaxed and unconcerned, and that the whole thing could be casual without it being too disconnected—that there was intimacy in interactions where he didn’t even have to touch Yuuri in any way.

Maybe Viktor was just inexperienced in that category. Maybe this was a normal thing that happened to normal people who had normal problems to deal with.

They watched a movie after. Sci-fi, on Yuuri’s insistence. Both of their hairs were dripping from their recent showers, Yuuri was in his baggy sweats, and Viktor was in no mood to put anything on other than a bathrobe.

They never spoke a word to each other throughout the whole thing, just sharing each other’s warmth and company, their fingers laced together as they sat comfortably on the couch. Viktor wondered if he’s ever been with someone like this; to find comfort in silence much rather than in conversations, to feel secure without ever hearing from Yuuri at all.

Then again, it could be that he’s never quite loved anyone like this before.

Much later on that night, Yuuri caught sight of the record player again. It sat there, completely free of dust but not of scratches, it’s age showing no matter how Viktor tried to take care of it.

“One of your antique items?” Yuuri asked, his index finger hesitantly running across the edge of the item, eyes full of wonder.

“Hmm?” Viktor stood behind him, arms coming around Yuuri’s waist. “Oh, that’s something I brought from Russia.”

“How old is it?”

“Second World War, I think? So not _too_ old,” Viktor said. “And British made. I don’t know why it found it’s way to Russia, though.”

Yuuri leaned against him, his head on Viktor’s shoulder. “There’s always pleasure in not knowing.”

“You think so?”

“It makes it open for interpretation, re-imagination,” he said. “I like the idea of having to keep wondering.”

“You should’ve taken Art History instead,” Viktor jeered, which earned him a giggle and a gentle nudge on the forehead. Yuuri leaned closer, draping himself against Viktor.

“I really do think it’s pretty, though.”

“And what if you ended up knowing what it really is?” Viktor asked. “What if it isn’t as great as you think it is?”

“It’s still very beautiful,” Yuuri said. “I imagine you loved it without knowing what it is. Without expecting to know what it is. Had you known this once had been a terrible person’s, would you throw it away?”

Viktor felt fleeting doubt. “I wouldn’t. But that’s just me.”

“Exactly. You can’t really know if someone’s going to keep it unless you ask.”

“My Yuuri,” Viktor kissed him on the cheek, his skin warm and smelled of coffee, of Viktor’s sheets, of Viktor’s apartment. “You’re so smart.”

Yuuri playfully slapped his arm. “Flatterer.”

Maybe Viktor was just trying to make himself feel better by saying that.

He hoped that perhaps, if he continually encouraged that from Yuuri, that it would make it easier to tell him when the time came. Viktor’s fears are still very much real and traitorous, but one day he will overcome them—not because he knew he’d be able to, but because he’d have to.

“I don’t deserve you.”

He must have said that out loud, since Yuuri reacted to him quite abruptly, and turned around to face him.

“Why would you say that?” Yuuri asked, his voice tender, kind; and if Viktor was to indulge his delusions, he’d say it was full of affection as well.

“Say what?”

“That you don’t deserve me.”

Viktor snorted. “If you didn’t want me to be self-depreciating, trust me, I wasn’t.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“I just—come on, you know what I mean.” Viktor found himself incapable of coming up for an explanation.

But perhaps, there are things that are meant to be _felt_ and to be left at that, otherwise trying to explain them was going to give everyone a headache.

“Listen,” Yuuri said, hands coming up to cup Viktor’s face. He had rough palms; the hands of a man who’s worked all his life. “I didn’t know what I did right for me to meet someone like you. Or for someone like you to look at me the way you do. It could have gone very differently that night we first met.”

Viktor nodded.

He didn’t know where this was going, but he was going to hear it out. Yuuri was probably going to praise him, tell him he’s the best man the world could know, and Viktor was ready to correct that.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

“I wouldn’t have been there if the previous bartender hadn’t called in sick. You wouldn’t have been there if you had any other emergencies. We wouldn’t have met if you didn’t feel like getting yourself a drink,” Yuuri counted off in fond memory, of _what ifs_ and little miracles that led them to where they stood. “I genuinely think that our meeting was out of chance, but that doesn’t mean I’m not the happiest that it’s happened.”

Viktor scowled, unable to understand. “Coincidence, huh?”

“Yeah, just like meeting you when we were only boys,” Yuuri said. “It doesn’t matter who deserves who, where we came from, or what who we meet along the way. I met you now, and I care about you now. Is that enough?”

And maybe that _was_ enough, but Viktor only wanted to ask for more.

-

They fell into bed that night, much like other nights they’ve been together, but something’s changed. Viktor found himself in desperation, in longing. His kisses lingered more than he allowed them to, his touches heavier.

Viktor was _begging_.

“Yuuri,” he pleaded, dragging the syllables, unable to say much else. “Yuuri, Yuuri—I need—”

His moans were caught in his throat as his whole body arched, taut and trembling, Yuuri’s fingers curling towards where he wanted them to be. He tried to pull himself up, push himself enough to reach where Yuuri was knelt in in between his spread legs, to pull him closer; but Viktor had been reduced to nothing, his upper body slamming back down into the mattress as soon as he tried to move.

“Slow down, Viktor,” Yuuri’s other hand came up to draw small, comforting circles on his thigh, distracting Viktor from an oncoming orgasm that was almost too embarrassingly early. “I won’t take you without proper prepping—”

“I don’t _care_ ,” he hissed. “I’m used to it—just—”

Suddenly, Yuuri was upon him, bent over and face hovering over Viktor’s. He was a breath away, close enough to kiss him raw. Yuuri’s fingers were still buried in his ass, fucking him slow and deep, sporadically punishing him by pushing up against his prostate hard and fast. “Shhh,” Yuuri whispered. “I don’t know why you’re used to not being taken cared of, but that’s clearly not what you deserve.”

He planted a small, rather chaste kiss on Viktor’s lips, and before Viktor could say much else, Yuuri had retreated and out of Viktor’s reach again. Viktor was about to protest, but gasped in surprise as he felt Yuuri’s tongue circling the rim of his hole.

“ _Jesus Fucking Christ_ ,” he cursed.

Yuuri, in response, began to push his tongue alongside his fingers, destroying what was left of Viktor’s braincells. Yuuri’s tongue did _wonders_ , making Viktor slick and wet and all kinds of dirty that went straight to his cock. He took his time, seemingly deaf to Viktor’s pleading, and when Viktor started to push against his tongue to fuck himself, Yuuri stopped.

He pulled out his fingers and unceremoniously wiped spit from his mouth, looking as flustered as Viktor felt. And then he bent over, arm reaching toward the side table’s drawer right above Viktor.

Viktor, who definitely _wasn’t_ thinking, snatched Yuuri’s wrist. The motion itself was so abrupt that the look on Yuuri face changed, morphing into worry.

And what a darling he was, as he asked, “Something wrong?”

For a moment, Viktor didn’t know what to say. He opened his mouth, only to realise that he hadn’t thought about why he had done that, as if he had moved purely on instinct alone.

The look of worry on Yuuri’s face went from initial shock to outright troubled, his brows drawn together in concern. “Did I hurt you—”

“No,” Viktor got out, his throat closing in on him, his chest exploding in emotions he never thought he’d ever feel before. “You didn’t hurt me, I mean.”

Yuuri took Viktor’s hand in his, rubbing his thumb in small circles on Viktor’s palm. “Then what was it?”

“I just—can we—” he swallowed. “If you don’t mind...”

For a second, Yuuri’s eyes flitted toward the drawer he had been reaching for, then his face transformed into that of understanding. Viktor watched as Yuuri’s expression relax, almost relieved, and he bent to kiss Viktor’s palm. “You didn’t want the condom?”

“If it’s alright with you,” Viktor said, feeling a little embarrassed for demanding so much without even considering the consequences. He normally wouldn’t, and never have, but it felt like it was the right time to do it—but that didn’t take away from how _strange_ that request was, no matter what Viktor’s muddled mind told him. “You know, I just—I just got carried away. Don’t mind it. Let’s just—”

“I haven’t been with anyone for a long time,” Yuuri said. “Before you, I mean.”

Viktor’s jaw dropped, confused.

“And I normally go for an annual check-up,” Yuuri said. “For the health insurance.”

“I do mine twice a month,” Viktor knew he couldn’t say he hadn’t been with anyone for as long as Yuuri stayed celibate. If he was going to be technical about it, a month _was_ a long time relative to how sexually active he was, but still. He couldn’t lie about that, not for something like this, not for something as important as his secrets. “Did one last month.”

Still lying by omission, but he did not want to think about that.

“Okay,” Yuuri whispered, kissing Viktor’s knuckles affectionately. “alright.”

They took it slow, not unlike how anyone would have done it on their first time. Yuuri took his time, took note of each and every detail, felt for any sign of discomfort. Viktor allowed him, because it was equally a huge step for him. It was new, but one he could easily have done on his own terms if he had allowed it.

Many have propositioned him before, many have willingly offered him an obscene amount of money to get him to say yes, but that wasn’t it. He said no because he never did trust anyone for the life of him—but Yuuri—with Yuuri, it’s always a _yes_.

Yes to everything. Yes to every surprise. Yes to every intimate moment shared with him. Yes to giving everything that he could, that he _still_ could, wide open and bare unlike he’s ever been with anyone before.

And yet...Yuuri was taking it _too_ slow for his liking. Not that Viktor would mind if he took his time to take it all in, but he was treating Viktor like glass, as if he was about ready to stop and pull out at the smallest of warning signs.

Viktor grabbed Yuuri’s shoulders, tighter than he already was, and smirked.

Yuuri gasped, deep with surprise, as Viktor clenched his ass around him. This way, could feel Yuuri’s cock throbbing, filling him to the brim. He knew Yuuri loved surprises, and that one got him good.

“Oh you...” Yuuri laughed.

He didn’t allow Viktor to respond as he moved his hands to the back of Viktor’s knees, pulled, and drastically changed the angle. As Yuuri fucked him, it hit his prostate directly, and Viktor inadvertently choked into his own moan of pleasure.

Now, _this_ was what he was going for.

“Mark me,” Viktor gasped as he felt his ass burn from how long they’ve been going at it.

It was no time to stop, though. There isn’t a time to stop. He wanted and wanted and wanted to get them as long as he was able. And yet, Yuuri paused then, almost abrupt and hesitant, like he’s been told to stop.

“What?”

Viktor pulled at Yuuri’s hair, taut and firm; the way he liked it. He pulled Yuuri close to him, as close as he was able, enjoying the friction it did to his dripping cock. “I said,” he whispered against the shell of Yuuri’s ear. “Mark. Me.”

Still, Yuuri did not move. He was frozen, albeit taken aback by the uncharacteristic request. Viktor had expressed how he didn’t like being marked from the beginning, and Yuuri respected that.

Not that he didn’t want it—he _did—_ but there were some things he thought he could never do. Now, Viktor had nothing to lose. There was no client to meet in the next two hours and no appointment where he had to pretend he belonged to someone else.

That night, he was Yuuri’s.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Viktor said. “Please.”

The tense hesitation broke, and Yuuri began to move again, a lot faster this time. Rougher. Yuuri didn’t usually do rough, and Viktor thought that was _perfect_.

-

Much later that night, when Viktor’s body could do no more, when was pleasantly bruised and exhausted, they laid together in bed; still damp with sweat, slick with come, and covered in dried spit.

It should have been one of those moments where Viktor hurried to wash himself in the bathroom. Not in a sense that he felt dirty for what he did, but more so because he felt uncomfortable in the aftermath. He felt like he should always look clean and smell good and be presentable, because nobody ever paid for dirty or broken items.

As he laid with the only man he’s ever allowed himself to be who he was, he felt no need to do that. There was no need to look pretty or presentable, because Yuuri’s seen the worst he’s ever looked and it never mattered.

Yuuri rolled closer to him, equally damp with sweat and other things. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Hmmm. Be careful.”

“I will.”

“I love you.”

Viktor’s heart began to pound again. He looked to Yuuri quickly, questions ready to come straight out of his mouth, but Yuuri was already asleep. He looked so peaceful. Tired, but peaceful, and Viktor did not have the heart to disturb him.

“Yeah,” Viktor found himself whispering back. “I really do think I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HMU on Tumblr @[anna-domini](https://anna-domini.tumblr.com/)
> 
> and do tell me what you think since I'm a bit iffy about this one. ugh.


	7. Make A Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor's comes to LA. And loses his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have beta readers, so if grammar and stuff are a bit wonky, you know why. Although I do my best to edit and stuff, I still miss things, so if there's an annoying error do tell me.

“Viktor,” Yuuri’s hand was on Viktor’s shoulder, drawing small little circles on the exposed skin. Naked back against him, skin to skin, Yuuri’s warmth was like a furnace far too comfortable for Viktor to leave. Eventually, Yuuri gave up trying to wake him as quietly as possible, and began to shake his shoulders. “You need to wake up.”

The first thing Viktor saw was the Detroit sky, his windows shut but curtains pulled back. It was way too dark for it to be close to the usual time any of them got up, way earlier than Yuuri’s annoying morning classes.

Ten minutes. An extra ten minutes of not thinking was a luxury he could still afford.

Viktor closed his eyes again, stretching under the covers, and whined. “It’s too early. Go back to sleep.”

“You need to double check your luggage. Are you sure you only need one bag?”

Viktor abruptly turned over and laid on Yuuri’s chest, effectively pinning him against the bed. “I’ll figure it out when I get there,” he said. “Besides, I don’t have a lot of friends and none of them are in California. I don’t need that many clothes.”

A noise of protest slipped from Yuuri, but he did not argue. Instead, his fingers come up to brush Viktor’s hair.

Viktor couldn’t help but notice how Yuuri’s grown to make a routine of that, a habit that’s repeated far too often for it to be strange or monumental. It’s going to be one of those things Viktor was going to have to live without for the mean time.

“Careful when you’re there.” Yuuri’s voice was soft, a little sleepy, hoarse and a little subconscious.

“You know I will, _Zolotse_ ,” Viktor said. “I’m always careful.”

It’s mornings like those that Viktor liked the most; it’s quiet, save for the hum of the of a few passing vehicles, the air much too cold for any of them to leave the bed. Viktor wasn’t too sure if he could ever get used to not waking up like that, or if it was a passing thing that’s greatly emphasised by his current personal crisis. He wouldn’t know, since it’s been a long, long time since he’s faced dilemma like this.

“You better be up in the next ten minutes or I’m physically dragging you to the shower,” Yuuri huffed, though his tone endeared rather than annoyed.

It took him about an hour to get out of his apartment. He wasn’t bringing much with him, but he still got the car out and let Yuuri drive them. Viktor had handed over a full set of keys to Yuuri, including the one for his car, and granted permission to use anything and everything beforehand so Yuuri didn’t need to ask. He’s given Yuuri the code to open the safe tucked away in the master’s bedroom, said that there was some cash and fully-charged prepaid phones stored in there for any emergencies (with no trace of Viktor’s important documents, of course, because that would be one hell of a thing to explain).

“And don’t hesitate to use whatever I have on the fridge,” Viktor said, rubbing his thumb over Yuuri’s knee, seeking warmth for his cold hands. “I’m serious, Yuuri. I have a few cartons of milk that’s gonna go bad if you didn’t open them.”

Yuuri’s already insisted that he was going to keep looking for apartments while Viktor’s away. That wasn’t negotiable, but Viktor had convinced him that he could have Phichit come over if he wanted to. He’s already told Chris to check up on Yuuri from time to time, and had specifically asked him not to give sweet Phichit Chulanont a heart attack.

“I’m paying rent straight from my bank account, too. So you don’t have to worry about dear landlady knocking on your door at six in the morning—”

“Viktor.”

“And don’t even hesitate to use water or electricity. I find that you’re so much more low maintenance than me, so don’t worry about that.”

“You’re acting like you’re not coming back,” Yuuri said.

Viktor’s hand stilled. He noticed, for the first time, that he’s been fidgeting on Yuuri’s knee rather than soothingly touching him. He could feel his constant sense of control slipping, layer after fucking layer, and he was afraid that one day he might be left raw and bare before he was ready for it.

“It’s three months, Viktor. I’ll be fine. I mean, I might Skype you everyday, but other than that I think I’ll manage,” he said, removing one hand from the steering wheel, and covering Viktor’s cold fingers on his lap. “How about you, though? Who’s going to cook you breakfast?”

The touch, along with the little joke, jolted Viktor’s mind right back. Despite his paranoia, he _was_ looking forward to coming home. There was no doubt in his mind that in three months time, one way or another, Viktor was going to be in Michigan and continue to live life normally.

He’s never so much as rely on _hope_ before—because if he wanted something to happen he made sure it did, and if he knew that there was nothing he could do he would accept and carry on—and for some reason it reinvigorated something in him. There’s always going to be that sense of worry, that constant weight on his chest, but he didn’t feel at all defeated.

Viktor brought Yuuri’s hand to his lips. “I’ve been looking forward to becoming a restaurant connoisseur in the next three months, thanks.”

“No fast food?”

“No fast food.”

The side of Yuuri’s lips quirked into a small smile, hand squeezing Viktor’s one more time before letting go and reaching forward to change gears.

As they arrived at the airport, there’s an odd feeling that overtook him. It felt as if his whole body was getting pressed down, his footsteps heavier, like he had to fight every time he needed to move. He _didn’t_ want to go, had never really been overly willing to leave his life in Michigan behind. He’s been feeling the same in the course of a week, only forgetting it when distracted, but it never really did disappear.

Their final embrace was nothing short of dramatic, and it took everything he had in him to not burst into tears and fall to his knees.

“You need to check in,” Yuuri said, voice muffled by Viktor’s coat.

He _could_ walk away.

Stephanie had told him he could make that decision if he really wanted to. He wasn’t bringing extra luggage with him. He only had one bag and could very well just turn and leave with Yuuri in his arms. He could go find a new apartment, close all his bank accounts and reopen new ones under a different name, have his website and all information about him on the internet wiped clean. But then—

“ _Viktor_ ,” Yuuri’s arms were tighter around him, turning to a place a gentle kiss on Viktor’s neck. “I’ll call you tonight, okay? I can’t wait for you to come home.”

But then, if he walked away, he was going to have to tell Yuuri _everything_. He needed to be ready to cut his chest open and say and think of and confess every single thing that for so long he’s successfully managed to keep behind a locked door down the deepest parts of his heart and soul.

He wasn’t ready. Not now. Not yet.

Viktor couldn’t help but laugh; drily, frustratedly. “I haven’t even left, _Zolotse_.”

“All the more reason for you to come back.”

And for what it’s worth, he promised he’d come back. As to when that’s going to be, he wasn’t too sure.

-

By the time Viktor was in California, he had a new name. Delivered right at his doorstep by a man who knew Stephanie, was a parcel filled with stacks of paperwork—multiple passports, social security IDs, birth certificates, high school and college diplomas. There was a phone she had Tom customise for better security (whatever the hell that meant), multiple disposable burners, carefully handwritten instructions on how to use VPN and proxy servers.

Gabriel Leblanc. Twenty two years old.Third generation French immigrant. A recent graduate from a relatively small university with a degree in European history. He just moved out of his parents house and has travelled all the way from Philadelphia to start a life of his own.

“ _Leblanc_?” Viktor frowned. “Are you kidding me?”

Said delivery guy (who also happened to be Stephanie’s trusted colleague) looked like he could not give two shits about what Viktor thought of the stupid name. He shrugged, looking about as dead on the inside as Viktor was. “Stephanie’s the one who made them up,” he said. “I just happen to know where to make them look real.”

“I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

“Otabek.”

Viktor huffed. “Right, Otabek. Can I ask you a question?”

Instead of actually saying anything as any normal human being would, Otabek opted to nod.

“Where’d you met Steph?”

“Work,” he said. “Ran into her sneaking into a client’s house.”

“That’s...reassuring.”

“We all want to make friends with people better than us,” Otabek shrugged. “Now, we just make sure none of our assignments conflict with each other.”

Viktor looked down at the handwritten instruction manual and flipped it over, there he found a note saying ‘ _don’t buy tickets in advance_ ’. He frowned at it, then said, “What does that even mean?”

“It’s to avoid people creeping around the passenger lists from spotting someone that stood out.”

“Like a very obvious fake name,” Viktor said. “Gabriel Leblanc sounds like a guy who finally had a breakdown and changed their name to Metta World Peace.”

Otabek’s eyebrows climbed. “Basketball?”

“No, figure skating,” Viktor snorted. “Greatest of all time, I heard.”

“That would be Christophe Giacometti, but I digress,” Otabek said, drawing a small smile out of Viktor, but Otabek didn’t have to see or know that. “You should read the other one.”

“The other what?”

“The stack of papers. It’s got more instructions in it.”

Not a piece of paper, but a whole fucking bank book.

Stephanie had already opened a bank account under Gabriel’s name, found him an apartment using the same information, and has passed on what was needed to Otabek. How the hell she did all that without Viktor having to show his face was another interesting puzzle to think about.

“If you need to make friends outside of work, I advise that you use Gabriel’s name,” Otabek said. “You won’t be staying here long, right? Best avoid getting _too_ drunk.”

“I don’t have enough friends to be out drinking on Saturday nights,” Viktor said, still scowling at the stupid name.

A whole new identity on top of Anatoly. A mask he didn’t even make on his own, but one shaped and tempered to hide him in the most effective way. It would allow him to be out in the open, inconspicuous and unsuspicious, just one other fresh grad looking to make a new life in California. He wasn’t Russian, wasn’t twenty-five, and wasn’t with a lovely young man he just recently admitted to falling in love with.He couldn’t even be _Viktor_ anymore.

“You know, you’re used to Stephanie being overly careful, and that’s fine,” Otabek said. “But my own personal rules aren’t, so you can talk to me if you want to.”

Viktor’s frown deepened. “And what does she think about that?”

“She doesn’t want to be personally invested in her clients, and for good reason. But for her to go this far,” Otabek gestured at the stack of documents in Viktor’s hands. “I think it’s a little too late for her not to call you a friend.”

Right. “And was she the one who told you? To make friends with me?”

Otabek stared at Viktor like it’s the most ridiculous thing in the world to say. “No. I just like to be on a certain level of friendship with my clients, that’s all.”

“Isn’t that bordering on unprofessional?”

“It builds trust,” Otabek shrugged. “We won’t be working together for very long, and this is the fastest way you can trust me.”

Viktor plopped down on the couch, arrested with the feeling of wanting to punch someone in the face. “ _Thanks_.”

The first night, Viktor couldn’t find it himself to eat, or to call Yuuri. Somehow, he managed to come up with an excuse that involved a shitty wi-fi connection and how he was going to complain about that first thing in the morning. It would have been fine if Yuuri had become annoyed or mad at him, even better if he responded to Viktor’s shitty text by calling and yelling at him over the phone, because then he’d feel like he’s been punished for not being a responsible boyfriend. Instead, Yuuri texted him back with a brief, _tell me when you’ve settled_ followed by a sweet _I miss you already_.

For the first time, all the people who ever told him he didn’t deserve nice things seemed awfully right.

He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to think, didn’t want to _feel_ anything for once. He laid on the bed, the sheets smelled like they were freshly taken out of store packaging, devoid of the smell and sound and feel of the things he had grown used to.

He’s tired. He’s burnt out to the fullest extent, and when he tried to sleep that night, he dreamt of nightmares before waking up and never sleeping again.

-

Viktor was scheduled to meet with Otabek to go over what he could do while he was in California. While Stephanie was meticulous and favoured safety nets, Otabek operated by observation, reacted to situations as they come, and preferred to hide in plain sight rather than shutting the world out.

Since Viktor was so used to Stephanie’s methods, it was understandable that he felt a little unsettled aboutmeeting at a fucking coffee shop. Where anyone could be looking. Anyone could be _listening_. He didn’t like it one bit and said so to Otabek’s face.

“You sitting all hunched over like that is as bad as holing up in your apartment,” Otabek said, nonchalantly, all the while sprinkling sugar in his coffee. He acted like it was just one of those afternoons, enjoying his coffee with far too many spoons of sugar, chatting Viktor up about the weather like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “If I was your neighbour, I would have started to wonder why you hand’t come out in three days.”

“I’m new to the place, of course I’m not expected to go out.”

“Yeah? But you’ve been to university, right?”

“That’s not—right,” Viktor leaned back on the chair, feeling the whole of him deflate. He’s spent countless hours staring at the window in the most pathetic ways, and when he wasn’t doing that, he lamented on how nice the weather would have been in Michigan.

“Much better.”

Viktor frowned at Otabek in the most menacing way he knew, and began to tap his spoon on lip of his cup of coffee.

“That’s not much better,” Otabek said.

“Seriously?”

“You’ve been taught how to hide. I’m here to teach you how to live normally,” after which Otabek’s wondered across the establishment, then he jerked his head as if asking Viktor to look at the same thing.

Viktor did look around the coffee shop then. Otabek had led them to a table at the corner, out in the open but far away enough from other people that no one could hear their hushed conversation. Viktor was seated so that his face couldn’t be seen by the other patrons or the people passing by outside, while Otabek was in a perfect position to spot anyone who came in or might be listening. For all Viktor’s paranoia, it _was_ ingenious, but he still couldn’t shake off the last bit of worry gnawing at him from the inside of his own head.

“Are you a frustrated therapist?”

“No, I just don’t like watching people constantly looking over their shoulders,” Otabek said, face still blank, and posture impossibly casual for someone who sometimes worked with shady people. “Stephanie wanted me to ask you what you wanted to do while you’re here.”

“Audition for the next horror movie in Hollywood.”

“Great. What’s next?”

Viktor had to fight not to snort. “I don’t know what else. Maybe work as a janitor. The rent isn’t going to pay itself.”

At this point, Viktor would have already seen signs of how much Otabek knew, or at least what opinion he had of Viktor. There’s always a way to gauge what people knew based on their language, their expression, but Otabek showed no sign of that at all. He could be lying to Viktor’s face and no one would know.

Biting his lip, still overcome by doubt, Viktor asked, “What did Stephanie tell you about me?”

Otabek took a few moments before he could respond. “Not everything, but enough.”

“How much is enough?”

“I know that you fear exposure, that there’s a client or their family members coming after you, but I don’t know much about what you do,” Otabek said, looking a tad bit confused. “Honestly, you don’t have to tell me. I just need to make sure no one gets to you while you’re here and won’t have much to do with you once you leave.”

That’s annoying.

Viktor might be hiding from people who were dead-set on ruining him and everything he cared about, but he wasn’t so ashamed of himself that he wouldn’t tell anyone if there was no harm in it. If Otabek was going to protect Viktor, he might as well have all the information he needed.

“I do escort services,” Viktor blurted.

“That makes more sense,” Otabek shrugged, the strange normalcy of how he reacted to it said a lot about the kind of shit he must have dealt with in the past. Viktor was honestly not surprised. “She did say you could keep working if you want to. Says she’s already given you a list of people to avoid. I’ll have to constantly monitor where you are and the people you’re with, of course, but other than that I trust that you know what to do...”

Viktor has already blocked out half of what Otabek had just said, every fibre of his being pushed him to say he didn’t want to, that he couldn’t, that there was someone waiting for him in Detroit. The said someone also didn’t know anything about the things he got caught up in, didn’t know how said someone was going to react, and therefore the least Viktor could do was not dig an even deeper hole to trap himself in—regardless of what he personally thought on the matter.

Otabek, as Viktor would discover, was indeed perceptive in the most terrifying way possible. He seemed to have caught on with Viktor’s silence, face flashing a scowl quickly before he smoothed it back to his usual nonchalance, and said, “You don’t want to.”

It wasn’t a question, but a sudden bout of realisation masked by Otabek’s practised indifference.

Sighing, Viktor picked up the spoon again and began to flip it around his fingers. “Stephanie told me I had to.”

“You don’t have to.”

Viktor put the teaspoon back down, and looked towards Otabek. “What do _you_ think?”

“You can do what you want. And not do what you don’t—”

“Let me rephrase that,” Viktor said. “What do you _really_ think? C’mon, you’re a logical guy, tell me the best course of action and I will do it.”

Trust Viktor to spew bullshit, but he’s done that plenty of times in his life. At this point, the only other thing he’d ever say no to was to stop all communications with the people he left in Detroit; dehumanising himself to save his skin wasn’t too bad in comparison.

“Well.” There’s an almost unnoticeable bob of Otabek’s adam’s apple, a split second hesitation. “Dropping off the face of the earth isn’t going to be much help.”

“Why do you think so? She can erase all signs of me from that internet if she wants to.”

“If you weren’t so popular, that wouldn’t be a problem,” Otabek said, clearing his throat as if he just swallowed something awful. “Once you disappear, there’s a chance people will come looking for you. If, say, one of your clients happen to have caught something—”

Viktor frowned. “I assure you that I’m not that careless.”

“It doesn’t matter if you gave it to them or not,” Otabek said. “If someone’s wife were to find out that their husband caught something, who do you think that husband’s going to blame first?”

“I—” Viktor could hear his own voice change pitch, awfully weak-sounding if not completely pathetic. “I’m not the only one they could have been with...”

“True, but it’s going to be easy to blame you, because you’re the one who’s going to seem like you’re running away,” Otabek said. “It doesn’t matter if you sent them the ten STD results you had in the last five months, you’re an easy scapegoat and that’s the reality of it.”

Viktor felt his heart burst from inside him, all his fears suddenly rising up to the surface, only muddled by the misplaced anger that popped out of nowhere. But Otabek was right, it was a reality-check, and it was one of those things Viktor should have already prepared himself for. “You sure don’t pull punches, do you?”

“I was trying to, but you wanted me to be frank, so here we are.”

Silence fell upon their table. It was as awkward as it was frustrating, the sudden pause leaving Viktor prone to the dangers inside of his own head. Stephanie had been upfront about these things; she figured that if she told Viktor the possible dangers that might happen to him, the less likely he was going to panic when they unfortunately came.

That didn’t make things _fair_ , though. When Viktor recognised the risks, he hadn’t expected the worst case scenario happening.

Strangely, it was Otabek who broke the silence. His voice was calm, levelled, almost a little too careful if Viktor was reading him right. “I don’t want you to think that your situation is by any means easy,” he said. “But I want you to know that it is fixable, and whatever I can do while you’re under my watch, I’ll do it.”

Viktor did manage to sleep that night, a full five hours instead of three. At two in the morning, he found his courage to finally call his boyfriend—not because he was ready, but because missing Yuuri somehow outweighed any feeling of guilt that’s been following him around California. He caught glimpse of the time and thought about ending the call, not at all expecting Yuuri to pick up, but hearing Yuuri’s endearingly sleepy voice on the other end of the line dissolved all intents to not be selfish.

“ _You said not to care what time it is when I call you_ ,” Yuuri had said to him. “ _It works both ways, Viktor. I didn’t change my volume settings for nothing_.”

-

Three days after the meeting at the coffee shop, Viktor received a text from a long-time client.

He remembered Laura Sterling, but the last time he’s seen her was six months ago. She hasn’t been as much of a regular compared to how frequently the likes of Paul needed Viktor’s services, but she was one of the those people who’s been there from the very beginning.

Her requests varied from dinner dates to event appearances to sex, and because Viktor didn’t live close to her, she had deemed it easier to keep under the wraps. Compared to the others, she’s a little on the young side, albeit a little rare amongst his female clients. Viktor’s been introduced as an on-again-of-again boyfriend to her friends and family, was her date to senior prom, and has overall been a constant mask meant to hide how lonely she was.

“ _You don’t have to agree to anything you’re not comfortable with_ ,” Otabek had told him over the phone, when Viktor had called him up whilst he found himself in the middle of a crisis. “ _Show up to dinner and that’ll be fine, just don’t disappear_.”

Actually, Viktor had already rejected a couple of inquiries in the last two days. He’s made up excuses about how he was ‘busy’ that week; implying that his schedule was fully-booked and could no longer pencil anyone in. They did try to ask about his plans for the coming weeks, but when you’re as elusive yet as popular of an escort as Viktor, it was so easy to lie about the long queues. He did make promises to discretely inform them when he’s free though, because that was still one of the things he was good at.

Unlike the previous ones he’s let down, he actually liked Laura a lot. It made him pause when she called him up, prompted him to ask Otabek if it was wise, and went to confirm his availability minutes later.

Surprisingly, he was still good at it.

He remembered several things that she preferred, fixed himself in the way she always liked—from the colour of his pressed suit to the way he did his hair, even down to the type of cufflinks she often absent-mindedly rubbed her thumb against. If a client hired his services enough times, rest assured Viktor would already have done everything he could to defy expectations, and by doing that, it made it certain that the said clients came back.

Even after a month of rest, his instincts have not changed. He slipped a few dollar bills and a credit card to the hidden pocket of his suit jacket, carried a burner phone, and hid a small bottle of mace. He stared at the string of condoms for a long time before he decided that he might as well bring them along.

Viktor was a creature of habit, and only felt secure when he had everything essential with him.

He texted Otabek before he left, then decided to tell him the exact address, a newly found routine he was going to have to remember each time he needed to leave his apartment at night.

At dinner, Laura wore a pretty green dress that set off her red hair, making her more beautiful than he last saw her. He might have always been careful not to get attached to the people who hired his services, but he was not an idiot; he appreciated beauty when it was in front of him.

The place they were in wasn’t actually that romantic, not like the usual ones she chose whenever she asked for him, but somehow had the atmosphere of a restaurant someone went to when they’re off meeting old friends. It’s got almost a casual air to it; the music played was a lively jazz tune, slightly drowned by indistinct chatter coming from families seated in long tables.

“You always did look nice in navy blue,” she said, by way of greeting him. Soft-spoken, as always, still hesitant. It’s as if she was trying really hard not to scare Viktor away even if there was no reason to.

“Not as pretty as you are tonight,” Viktor said, and without lying. He noticed her immediate disbelief and quickly squashed it before it began to blossom into self-doubt. “And green really is your colour. You can’t tell me otherwise.”

She’s wonderful to talk to, a little shy, and astoundingly self-conscious for someone so pretty. She reminded him of Yuuri, if not a little more self-deprecating, but Viktor wouldn’t allow himself to think about that. He had feelings to sort out, sure, but it was not the time to break down and rethink his life choices. He’ll get to that when things truly come to a head, but at the moment, he’s chosen to push those thoughts aside.

“I heard you were working on an art project,” Viktor said.

And it was the right decision to bring that up. Not only did it derail his own thoughts from the things he’s left behind, it caught Laura’s attention as well. The tension on her body began to disappear almost immediately, face lighting up, a smile finally forming on her full lips. She began to talk about the concept of the said project, and while Viktor didn’t know shit about performance art, he was glad to know that there were some things that could still pull her out of the confines of her own mind.

Despite his hesitation to accept the job, he found himself relaxing, his nerves loosened by a few glasses of the nicest wine. And when he’s brought her back to her apartment and her hands began to wander, Viktor allowed it.

It’s different with her, Viktor thought. It’s different with _everyone_.

Her shyness translated directly into the bedroom. Even after all the times they’ve been in the same exact situation, she still wouldn’t let him undress her with the lights on, still had the unconscious tendency to hide herself, still had the habit of silencing her own sighs and moans. Viktor would tell her it was fine, that it was alright, and she would let go, but only to find herself pulling back a few moments after.

Later that night, when her head was tucked at the crook of his neck, she said, “You’ve met someone.”

Viktor had been far too tired to come up with an excuse.

Instead of thinking up a story by means of deflecting the attention away from him, he pulled her closer. “And you?”

“I don’t think I’d ever.”

“Nonsense,” Viktor said. “If at this point you told me no one has ever come to you, I’d think you’re lying.”

Laura snorted. “You flatter me too much, Anatoly. You don’t have to.”

Her doubt was understandable. Viktor knew praise didn’t mean much when it came from someone you paid to be with you, and it all the more made everything about Laura Sterling almost sad. He wondered how many other beautiful people, who like Laura, had become too blindsided by their insecurities to feel at all important or attractive. He wondered how many of his clients have found him and decided to have him because they didn’t think they’ll get the same kind of attention otherwise.

Viktor usually didn’t care about those things. Regardless of what their reasons were, they should be in no circumstances, deprived of buying things they want. Regardless of what it did to their self-esteem, to their personal lives, Viktor shouldn’t be concerning himself with it. He wasn’t supposed to care. It’s that mindset that hardened him throughout the years, the belief that made him successful in the first place. And yet...

“When I first received your request—five years ago, was it? I didn’t think much about it except that you were a little young to be calling on me,” he said.

“Eighteen year olds never call you up?”

“Oh, they have,” he laughed. “Though they’re usually too drunk to do anything by the time I’ve arrived.”

She hummed.

“I was thinking of things to tell you when I was getting ready to pick you up, you know? I was thinking, that’s what dates are supposed to do, right? They ask you to dinner or prom because they think you’re fun and pretty?” Viktor said, remembering the night he first knocked on her door, only to reel back when he saw Laura’s father waiting on the other side. “But then I saw you and wondered, ‘why didn’t _anyone_ ask her to prom?’”

“I think it was fairly obvious.”

He was much younger, then. Much less indifferent to his clients’ personal lives. There were memorable people, of course—those who stood out and would become the main reasons why Viktor started to think that he shouldn’t care—but Laura stood out for the complete opposite.

“If you meant that some of the guys were actually interested in you, yes it was obvious,” Viktor said, fingers coming up to smooth the frown forming on Laura’s face. “Obvious to me, at least. But not to you, apparently.”

Laura pushed herself up to really look at him, her weight supported by her elbows. Her hair looked especially red against her pale skin, her lovely freckles more visible on her cheeks. She’s only becoming lovelier as the years passed, and how she’s never come to realise that was almost unbelievable. “You really mean that. You’re not saying that because you have to.”

“It’s hard to believe coming from me, I know,” Viktor said. “That’s why I returned your payment after prom. I wanted you to know that I enjoyed being with you, and if you were to look at the transactions I had in the last seven years, you would know that I rarely ever do that.”

A moment later, Laura had fallen back unto the bed, arms coming around to embrace Viktor tightly. Viktor could feel a slight dampness where her cheek was pressed against his collarbone, but he didn’t mention it. Instead, he brought up a hand to rub against her back, touch devoid of any indication that it was more than just a reassuring gesture. “Don’t rely on me too much, sweetheart,” he said. “You’re so much better than you think you are.”

-

In the course of the next week, Viktor has fully immersed himself into the life of Gabriel.

Thankfully, he only ever got to introduce himself to a few people. A fairly expensive living space meant rich neighbours—ranging from kind old pensioners to overworked businessmen—most of whom were relatively harmless and easily lied to. Sometimes a nice old lady would ask him how he’s doing, other times a young widow and her son asked about Philly, most of the time they politely asked about his job. For every lie he told, he made sure that it corroborated with the previous ones he said. He made the disguise more believable, adding personality to Stephanie’s skeleton of a man, and made a whole character that was distinct and believable.

He’s even become so mindful of this that he ordered from coffeeshops using the fake name, learned to like his coffee with three shots of espresso instead of four, changed his general way of speaking by adding more pauses and a slight French accent. No matter what Otabek said about him not being able to hide himself in plain sight, Viktor was _good_ at it. So good that Gabriel Leblanc’s whole persona has been perfected in a week’s time.

There was no Viktor in his life in LA, and he didn’t know wether to feel sad or slam his head against the nearest wall.

The only other time he’s allowed to be Viktor was at night. He couldn’t Skype Yuuri until after it struck midnight in Detroit, but it was better than the minute-long phone calls he made right before Yuuri went out for his night shift. By the time Yuuri came home from work, he would have a few things to read or write down, and Viktor took that opportunity to either ask about his day or just watch him work. Viktor would even pretend to do some paperwork while Yuuri was too distracted doing his own thing; because if he didn’t, Yuuri would have already told him to go to sleep.

“ _It’s not like I’m the only one who’s got something to do_ ,” Yuuri would say; partly to reprimand, partly out of concern.

He did, however, tell Yuuri he was busy when he went out to dinner with Laura. Which, by the way, was a thing Viktor was still conflicted about. Something told him that he should have felt bad—for sleeping with someone else other than his boyfriend—but then his brain began to draft logical arguments as to why he shouldn’t. Wasn’t he already sleeping with clients before he met Yuuri? Wasn’t he still doing that when they started getting together?

Yuuri’s _clearly_ his boyfriend now—Viktor had straightened that out before he left—but they haven’t talked about much else. There was no talk or understanding in regards to exclusivity, no clear declaration that Viktor cannot do anything with anyone else. There was so many things Viktor’s yet to understand about relationships, and he’ll address those eventually—as soon he’s ready to tell Yuuri everything.

Laura was one of the good ones, Viktor thought to himself. Had it been with another client who took him away to Vegas for a weekend, he wasn’t sure how he’d feel then.

Could that work?

Could he tell his boyfriend that he chose his clients? He was still sleeping with them, sure, but it wasn’t like Laura’s married and had five kids. It wasn’t like letting Laura bed him hurt any other person. Was that the change he needed? Would Yuuri take that into consideration and let others have him some nights?

“ _What’re you thinking about?_ ”

Viktor looked up the screen to see Yuuri smiling at him, face cradled on one hand, a pen pushed up against his cheek. His smile looked a little tired, but not as bad as it was a few weeks ago. Yuuri’s hair was also a little longer than when Viktor first met him, a small little detail that’s a testament to how quickly time has passed.

“ _I like your hair_ ,” Viktor said.

Yuuri combed his fingers through them, pushing them back then pulling the strands upwards, as if he was measuring the length of it. “I was actually thinking about cutting it.”

“Looks go on you.”

“You think everything looks good on me,” Yuuri said, but not without smiling.

Viktor hummed. “Maybe, but you can’t blame a man for finding you hot.”

Yuuri laughed and continued to write down a couple of things in his notebook. Then, almost out of nowhere, he picked up the conversation with, “Everything looks good on me, huh? Even in Avril Lavigne cosplay?”

It took a moment for everything to register before Viktor was hiding his face behind his hands. “I _knew_ I shouldn’t have told Chris to check up on you.”

“Too bad he didn’t have the pictures on his phone.”

Viktor groaned. He didn’t expect he’d come to regret the defining moment of his gay life later on.

“But you took pictures with a film camera, right? Do you think he might have it in his old photo albums? I think it’s in his old photo albums.”

“Christophe Giacometti is an unreliable source and I will not allow my boyfriend to listen to him.”

Yuuri continued to laugh, setting down his pen once more to lean toward the camera and smile. “For what it’s worth, I do think you’ll look good in them. Were there fishnets?”

They banter on for a little bit. Viktor wasn’t normally faced with teasing outside of his conversations with Chris. Not that he had any other choice, of course, but still.

He once thought that he was never going to experience the same kind of feeling a teenager would discovering what love left like. How strange it was to be completely honest with another outside the safe confines of friends and family. Each and every new secret, each and every new embarrassing thing Yuuri knew about him felt like a monumental moment; the information pieced together to reflect who Viktor was in the past that made him what he was at present. There’s so much that Yuuri’s yet to know about him, but it was a start, and it was exciting.

“How often is Chris visiting you?” Viktor asked.

“I hope you aren’t forcing him to come here just to make sure I’m fine,” Yuuri said. “I know he’s busy.”

“Chris is fine, Yuuri.”

Yuuri looked rather unconvinced, though that was to be expected. He _hated_ being a burden; and as illogical it may seem, Yuuri did feel like he’s bothering people when they’re doing him favours. It was still a work in progress, sure, but Viktor wasn’t anything if not convincing.

“He might be, but Phichit wasn’t for a whole weekend,” Yuuri said. “Viktor, I think seeing Chris in person might have given him an aneurism.”

And they would talk like that, for hours on end. Sometimes Viktor needed to remind Yuuri that he still had work to do, and Yuuri would snap out of it and panic, but then he’ll start up talking about something that happened over the weekend and Viktor would have to indulge him. It’s almost funny, it’s addictive, and has become a routine.

Everything was fine. Viktor was laughing at something Yuuri said, had forgotten the things that concerned him, until the whole world suddenly came to a stop.

“I think your neighbours missed you,” was what Yuuri had said.

It sounded innocuous, and it would have flown by Viktor if he wasn’t so damn paranoid. Upon his realisation, his laughter ceased and his hands grew cold. Altogether, his muscles stiffened, his jaw became slack. He blinked at the screen helplessly, unable to react as quickly as he should have.

Yuuri hadn’t been able to notice immediately, but when he did, concern washed over his face. “Did I say something wrong?” he sputtered. “Oh god, you think I should apologise to them? It was late, I couldn’t get up—”

“What did you mean?”

A frown formed on Yuuri’s face, taken aback. “What?”

“What did you mean when you said they missed me? Did someone talk to you?”

Surely, Yuuri would have noticed it by now? He should have noticed how Viktor didn’t know any of his neighbours, that he didn’t have _any_ friends, and that he didn’t leave his apartment unless he absolutely had to?

“They—well, it was kind of late, you know? Two in the morning, I think? I fell asleep on the couch working on a paper when I heard someone jiggling the doorknob. They knocked a few times and gave up. I think they might have been out drinking and wanted to say hello?”

 _Unbelievable_. This couldn’t be happening. Viktor should have thought about what would happen if someone finally traced his address and went to track him down. Worst of all, the damn lease had his name on it and would directly link him back to Yuuri.

“Viktor?” Yuuri asked, worried. “Are you mad?”

“Yuuri,” Viktor got out, the air punched out of him like he’s fallen from high up. His mind was stuttering nonsense, his emotions misfiring in every possible direction. “Yuuri, love. I—I don’t—I have _no_ friends.”

Still looking terribly and understandably confused, Yuuri asked, “what are you—are you alright?”

Viktor was not alright. Panic had begun to surge up almost out of nowhere, the rest of him quivering, overcome by fear and many other things too incomprehensible for him to single out.

In that moment, it didn’t matter how much of him was going to get exposed to the one whose opinion of him he treasured the most. It was better that Yuuri hated Viktor than if he got caught in the middle of the mess Viktor’s brought on; and if anyone was going to take responsibility for making sure Yuuri’s safe, it would be Viktor.

He needed to make a decision.

Viktor could let it go, could assume that it was a mistake, could try to calm himself down and not panic. It could have been nothing, it really might have been just a couple of drunks who knocked at the wrong door.

But Viktor has thought the same exact thing before, and it sent him cowering to California without any notion of what to do next. He thought the woman he saw at the grocery store wasn’t anyone noteworthy until he discovered it was Paul Dunham’s wife. He thought a shady phone call was nothing until Stephanie told him someone was trying to trace his bank account information. He _couldn’t_ make the same mistake.

With a shuddering sigh, Viktor put his palms to his face, willing his heart to stop pounding against his chest like it would dislodge itself in his throat.

“Viktor,” Yuuri said, concern bleeding through his voice. “Talk to me.”

Yes, better that Yuuri hated him. Better than nothing.

It was then, that Viktor made a decision.

“Baby,” Viktor said, fingers quickly tapping on his laptop, efficiently browsing through windows and information. He avoided looking directly at Yuuri’s camera feed; it made it easier to talk that way. “Baby, do you trust me? I need you to trust me, please.”

Yuuri fell silent for a few seconds, still utterly confused. Viktor’s sudden bout of anxiety seemed to have rubbed off on him, as he was stuttering out the next few words when he said, “What—what is it?”

“I’m sending you something, okay? I need you to open your e-mail.” Viktor glanced at him, just to make sure he was still there. He was about to say crazy things, the least he could do was to make sure Yuuri stayed to listen to him.

Calmly, Yuuri’s hands went to the keyboard, eyes wandering around the screen. “Okay.”

“I’m sending you a VPN server. I need you to download it and close your browser. I need you to install what you’ve downloaded and use that to browse the internet.” Despite the panic that had found its way to Viktor’s chest, he was still methodical, clear, the scenarios running through his head at lightning speed. He’s got a weak heart, he discovered, but he was not one to cave under pressure. “Don’t open it while I’m calling you. I need you to close all internet-related softwares while you’re accessing it.”

Viktor knew his boyfriend wasn’t an idiot. Yuuri was young, a college student, and understood the ins and outs of the internet. He probably knew what a VPN server did, what people used it for, and was probably growing a lot more worried as Viktor blubbered on. He probably knew what Viktor was asking him to do, but couldn’t figure out as to why.

If he thought Viktor had somehow snapped and just lost it, he didn’t show it. “Alright, what did you want me to do?”

Balling up his shaking hands, Viktor pushed down all hesitation in favour of saying, “I need you get your phone and turn on flight-mode, then get the burners from the safe.”

Yuuri nodded, still confused, but he went to get his phone and fiddled with it. Seconds later, he was back in front of his laptop again, still awaiting instruction. He went with everything Viktor asked him to do without a hitch that Viktor started to suspect Yuuri was just humouring him.

Viktor took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and braced himself for the worst. “After we’ve ended this call, and you’ve opened the VPN, I need you to get a plane ticket. Look at flights from rush hour to lunch time, not earlier or later,” he said, feeling as if he just mumbled the words in his hurry to get them out; and then, finally, “From Detroit to Los Angeles, Yuuri.”

A dreadful pause followed.

Viktor could almost hear everything screech to a halt, his whole existence suspended in time, as frozen as the look of shock on Yuuri’s face. Viktor began to feel light, in the worst way possible, like he might hunch over and vomit at any moment. Yuuri’s face had gone white, his mouth falling open, the cogs in his mind snapping into place.

He should just end the call. He should just close his laptop and finally cry. He should just let it go and forget about Yuuri and not speak to him again. That wouldn’t be easy, but it’s going to lighten the blow if Chris called and told him Yuuri wasn’t staying at his apartment anymore. At least Yuuri wasn’t going to be there when they come knocking on Viktor’s door again.

“Yuuri... _Zolotse_ , tell me what you’re thinking,” Viktor forced himself to say.

Moments later, Yuuri looked down, contemplative, and swallowed. “Are you—are you going to tell me everything? If I went to get the ticket, are you going to explain what this is about?”

Viktor couldn’t speak. He nodded, holding back hysterical tears while he’s at it.

“Alright,” Yuuri sighed; gravely. “Alright. I’ll do it. I’ll be there in the afternoon.”

Viktor promised to handle everything with Chris and Phichit, that he’d figure it out. It's going to be much harder to explain things to Phichit, but Viktor did not have many choices. He made Yuuri promise him, told him to send Viktor his flight itinerary once the payment went through. It made him sound more insane than ever, as if he didn’t trust that Yuuri was going to take him seriously, but he wasn’t about to miss anything. Coming off as insane was the least of his concerns.

When Yuuri ended the call, Viktor got out his phone, and called Otabek. Viktor told him everything, down to the last detail, asked him if there was something he could do. And when all of that’s done, when his worries have subsided just a tad bit, Viktor finally allowed himself to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HMU @[anna-domini](https://anna-domini.tumblr.com/)
> 
> by the waaay, I know I've been _terrible_ at managing my update schedule lately, but I'm working on finishing the next damn chapter in a week's time. And yes, I've elected to challenge myself because why not it builds character. bye.
> 
> Also, notice that I deliberately didn't put Otabek's name on the character list. There's a reason for that, I guess. I don't know anymore.


End file.
